A New Hope
by VioletPistol
Summary: An icon's story when she had Rapture in the palm of her hand, her story when her life truly began. Amelia Rousseau, a singer, an actress in some accounts, and an over all craver of attention.
1. A Star Unlike Any Other

_Just… breathe. This is fate girl, this is fate._

A coffee cup sat forgotten, steaming in a slowly becoming dormant state on the far left of the warmly lit vanity.

The record, a cheap dusty old thing, played the familiar song over and over, as it had been for the duration of the morning.

Painted red lips parted slightly as warm, liquid amber irises scanned over them, the pink of a tongue dipping along the soft surface of its cheek in thought.

_You're born to do this… you're born to be a star…_

Shaky fingertips smoothed over the silken feel of her dress, over the ridge of knees and up the effortless length of thigh.

Long, mascara thick eyelashes brushed against clear, porcelain skin as the breath continued to leave the woman's lungs in calculated measures.

_You're beautiful and have a voice unlike any other starlet… A damned good voice at that… This is simply another opportunity. Except, this time, there aren't any second chances…_

"Amelia Mae Rousseau," The young woman suddenly breathed, staring determinedly at her reflection in her hand-me-down vanity. "You are the greatest singer in the world."

She frowned at her constant habit of having to reassure herself. However, she supposed that she would rather be constantly telling herself that she was perfect then constantly saying she was worthless.

The girl beamed at herself, wriggling her tongue along her already clean teeth—cleaned exactly five times within the last hour, to be exact.

She eyed the three large suitcases stacked behind her through the mirror image, studying the way their tower sagged towards her small bed. A bed that, embarrassingly, she'd had since she was… well, she'd had that bed her entire life.

The _entire_ morning had been spent packing.

Packing things that her father had yelled at her for being too 'useless'. Were her most precious items—dresses, shoes, coats, pearls, diamonds, more shoes, and her toiletries—useless? She certainly didn't think so.

"Emmy honey, are you done yet?"

Amelia's name had somehow over the years become Emmy. Although Emmy was only her… friendly name.

Amelia was her professional name. Emmy thought Amelia sounded professional. Truly and fully.

A name that someone might say, "Well God damn, that's the kind of name we're looking for in the music business!"

"Of course!" The girl called out as she leapt from her stool in a little bout of excitement.

Emmy Rousseau was a singer, an actress in some accounts, and an over all craver of attention.

She was born in South Carolina, but moved to New York with her parents after she had decided to become a singer.

How Emmy loved to sing… loved the rush of the lights and eyes all on her. She loved the sound of her voice echoing through a darkly lit room; how the silence overtook those who listened.

Of course, she had been singing her whole life. However, Emmy wasn't from a rich family who could simply buy her fame.

So the girl contented herself with singing at small events in her home of South Carolina, doing various shows at cafes and such.

Until one day, out of complete and utter fate, it happened…

Emmy could remember it clearly. She wore her favorite, sky blue dress—the one with the pretty lace and fake pearls sewn in at the breast. Her face was made up nicely with her mother's bright red lipstick and fancy mascara—something Emmy was only allowed to use for performances.

It was the day after her 19th birthday, and she was performing for her father's boss—Andrew Ryan.

Emmy didn't know much about the man at the time… Only that her father was apart of the company which helped escort certain kinds of metals and glasses to Mr. Ryan.

Her father never told her what Mr. Ryan was planning to do with all that supplies, she wasn't exactly sure that her _father_ knew what he was supplying for either…

But supposedly Mr. Ryan was visiting her father and his colleagues for a business meeting. Something men often had. And Emmy was there simply to compliment the deal.

Emmy sang the entire night, capturing the undivided attention of Mr. Andrew Ryan, something Emmy saw as a very good thing.

Mr. Ryan was a very rich man… A man who could present the girl with opportunities that would otherwise be unavailable to a simple girl such as herself.

As that night wore on, after all the songs had been sung, Emmy finally met Andrew Ryan.

He was not necessarily an attractive man, but he was sleek and suave. He had a light hint of an accent; Emmy supposed he was originally from some European country. Which made him all the more interesting in her eyes.

He was polite, obviously well-mannered, and very smart. Emmy had been told he was a man of science. A man who had earned hundreds of thousands of dollars from his work.

Although, he was rather intense. He had strange views on society. Some Emmy agreed with to an extent, but some she thought the man took just a _tiny_ step too far...

But all she could think about was how good it would be for her family to get into this man's good graces. How many doors would open for her career if she was a known friend to Andrew Ryan…

After that night Andrew Ryan attended every single one of Emmy's performances around South Carolina. He had taken a liking to either her voice or her looks. Either way Emmy was thankful.

Eventually Andrew Ryan expressed his faith in Emmy, saying that she could make it a very far way in the business. That business being singing of course.

He had then moved Emmy and her parents to New York to an apartment. It was a rather grand apartment as well. Nicer then anything Emmy had ever seen in her life.

She spent her days with Andrew Ryan and her nights performing in big band clubs.

She was popular among the local parts of New York, but she hadn't caught the eye of any real producers…

Emmy remembered the irritation in Mr. Ryan's eyes… She thought that maybe he was upset that he'd invested in her. Into something that didn't make it…

But then one night Mr. Ryan had a private dinner with Emmy. It was a long night of discussing things of lame importance.

Emmy knew he was beating around the bush—perhaps leading up to something bigger.

And she was right.

She could remember his exact words to her as he held her hands in his.

_"I want you to succeed Amelia... I want you to make your own living and become what you want to be… But, you cannot do so here… in this place…"_

"_In New York?" _

He looked at Emmy… for a long time. She could see that strange look in his eye. The look he got when he spoke of his views of atheism and freedom.

_"...I chose the impossible Amelia. I chose... Rapture, a city where the artist such as yourself would not fear the censor or be constrained by the weak minded... Rapture can become your city as well my dear, if you wish it."_

Emmy remembered looking at him like he was crazy…

She had, at the time, never heard of a place called 'rapture'. She wasn't even sure it _was_ a place.

"_Rapture, Mr. Ryan?"_

"_Yes my dear… Rapture…"_

"Emmy! Taxi's here!"

The girl felt the reality of the moment crash into her.

The fact that she was moving to Rapture… She was beginning her life on her own.

This was hers. This choice, this new place, this voice… it was _all hers_.

Even though she had to keep the exact whereabouts of Rapture secret from her parents –a condition that concerned Emmy—she figured it was a special privilege… To be one of the people that knew Rapture as a home…

To live in Utopia…

The door to the girl's room opened unannounced, her father lumbering in past her. He coughed pointedly at the heavy smell of perfume that permanently resided in the room, picking up all three of the large suitcases with a grumble.

Her father was the type of macho, man's man that wanted a macho son to do… whatever men do to bond.

But he only had one child, and that child was Emmy.

He loved his daughter, he truly did. But he didn't love that his boss was taking his only child away to Iceland...

He looked at his daughter's sweet smile as she gazed at him. He'd always cared for his child, but he never thought giving her up would be so... difficult.

"Stay safe, alright?" Was all he could manage.

Emmy looked at her father for a moment before the emotion of the moment overtook her; she strode quickly over to him and leaned up, pressing a soft, loving kiss to the man's weathered temple.

He gave a deep _harrumph_ and cleared his throat, causing the girl to hold back a small chuckle at his lack of comfort in such affectionate dealings.

As Emmy watched her father carry her bags Emmy slung her purse over her shoulder, smiling to herself as she slipped her stocking foot into her new heels that Mr. Ryan had bought for her.

They were black suede and they went magnificently with her new blue dress and black fur coat.

Mr. Ryan liked to spend money on her… To her delight.

"Sugar…"

Emmy looked at her mother through the reflection of her vanity as she adjusted the hat on her head, draping the black netting correctly over her perfectly made hair.

"Are you sure you can go alone…? I mean, you're not just moving to Manhattan or Brooklyn. You're going… to Iceland."

Emmy sighed after inserting her earrings, looking at her mother before turning to face her.

Her mother was once a very beautiful woman, with the bluest eyes Emmy had ever seen. But she let herself go to raise her daughter. A rightful choice made by most mothers.

"Mama, I can do this… I _need_ to do this… For myself, you know?" Emmy sighed, looking into her mother's eyes as she held her weathered hands in her gloved ones. "I'm born to sing. And Mr. Ryan said I'll become a star in Iceland."

Mrs. Rousseau looked at her only child before her, all grown up.

Short, light chocolate hair curled to perfection as it hung neatly at her shoulders, big, beautiful red lips, wide and innocent amber eyes framed with those dark lashes…

She had her father's coloring and her facial structure, something Emmy's mother always loved so dearly. She'd certainly grown from a small child, when those big brown eyes were innocent weapons... Now they're _skilled_ weapons.

Time flies she supposed...

The older woman wasn't sure if her daughter was ready… She really wasn't.

But who was she to tell her daughter not to live her life? Not to go make mistakes and live in new places…

It's what she lacked in her life as a young girl and she promised herself that she'd never let that kind of life befall her daughter…

"Well…" The woman breathed, studying her daughter one more moment before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We'll miss you…"

* * *

"Alright… Get off me."

Muddy brown eyes studied the man below her, his sweat slicked chest still heaving as he leaned his head back against the pillows.

"Leon… Are you serious? I'm not finished." The girl's thick, Brooklyn accent breathed as the man reached over to the bedside lamp. He flicked it on as he glanced at the naked woman on top of him, studying her red, sweaty face and mussed hair with disinterest.

"Well _I'm_ finished, and I want your ass off of me. Got it?"

The woman gaped at the man as he shrugged at her, taking a cigarette and lighting it casually before leaning back against of the headboard of his bed.

"You're such a dick Leon!" The woman snapped, pushing his shoulder against the wood roughly before wrapping the musky smelling sheet around her and jumping off the bed.

Leon watched the girl scurrying about the room, gathering up her clothes that were forgotten in passion not 1 hour ago.

"I'd expect this kinda shit from Jerry, but I thought you were nicer then this! _Guess not_." The girl fussed, throwing the sheet at the smug bastard on the bed as she slipped her panties back on. "You let those looks get to your head you know that?"

"I know that." Leon smiled, watching the girl he paid for as she looked for her purse. "Throw me a cigarette would you?"

The girl looked at him in disbelief, studying the current cigarette in the man's mouth before narrowing her eyes.

She quickly reached for the pack of cigarettes on the dresser to her right, throwing the pack at the man roughly in a huff. "Hey! I didn't mean _literally_! Jesus…-"

"Yeah! _Jesus Leon_!" The girl snapped, pulling her dress over her head furiously. "You treat me like crap! All I do is give you what you want, and you're still a bastard…"

The man's dark brown eyes studied the woman as she sighed, leaning against the dresser as the record player sounded in the background.

"_Daddy… Daddy won't you please come home?"_

Her eyes met his as she slumped; seemingly exhausted as her pale brown eyes displayed an air of defeat. "I really do love you Leon… I dunno why, suppose I'm into men who treat me like shit."

Leon looked away from her eyes, dreading her long confessions of her love as he sighed pointedly, a thick swirl of smoke curling from his lips.

She quickly got back on the bed, crawling towards him as he looked away from her deliberately and stared hard at the record player in the corner of the room.

He felt her soft lips on his jaw, tracing along its curve until she reached his chin. "Leon… Please…? Just _talk_ to me baby. I'm sorry I yelled at you…"

The man sighed, feeling the slightest sympathy for the broad. She had her eye on him from the moment Ryan set up the red light district in Rapture…

He happened to hire her after a long night working. He smelled like fish and he was dirty, but she still fucked him.

Somewhere along the time they did this she began to 'love' him. But Leon certainly didn't love her. He didn't love anyone.

He loved an easy life and money. And that was that.

"Georgia… You should go."

The woman leaned back, her knees on either side of the man's hips as she stared at him. He stared back, his gaze hard as his cigarette smoked into its demise in the ash tray.

She didn't say another word, she simply got off the man's bed, grabbed her purse and her shoes, and shut the door quietly behind her.

Leon Calloway had lived in Rapture for 2 years now. He got a job working at Fontaine Fisheries, and occasionally helping out with various repairs around the place.

He was from New Jersey. He had lived with his god forsaken mother.

His father died when Leon was 13. He had been involved in some loan shark issues and it ended ugly.

Leon was now 26, his first two years in Rapture not much different then his life back in his shitty neighborhood in Jersey.

He wasn't one of those fancy artists or scientists who were too busy full of their own shit that they couldn't do anything but spout crap about their work all God damn day.

Leon worked, just like he had in Jersey. Because the worker class in Rapture wasn't different then anywhere else in the world.

Course, he got a home and girls. He got paid and didn't have his mother breathing down his fuckin' neck. But now he had that girl, Georgia, constantly bitching about how mean he was.

He wasn't _mean_, he just didn't like her.

The man extinguished his cigarette in his ashtray before getting up. He walked naked over to the bathroom in his small joke of an apartment.

He liked Rapture he supposed.

Along with the money coming in with the Fishery business, he also helped Fontaine with some smuggling of goods.

The good, snobby pricks of Rapture began wanting more then just the shit they call home grown food.

Since Ryan won't let people leave Rapture to get what they want, people have to do it all secret like.

Leon understood that. He sure did.

Course, there was also that thing with that… Weird Tenenbaum broad.

One day some guy who had crippled hands during the war got bitten by this freaky looking slug. Apparently it healed his hands to perfect condition.

That scientist gal got interested and decided to take the 'ADAM' from the slug with Fontaine's sponsoring.

Leon didn't know much about ADAM, he'd never used it. It weirded him out; disfigured most of the fellas down in the fishery too. It was supposed to improve… whatever, your strength and health, as it had done with that one guy.

Leon didn't buy into it though. 'Specially since Tenenbaum was buying into it.

The man looked at himself in the mirror, studying his sex hair in a dull kind of satisfaction.

He ran his hands under the water from the faucet as he studied his reflection: His deep black hair, dark chocolate eyes, prominent, masculine features that his father had.

Georgia was right of course… he let his looks turn him overly arrogant. But he supposed he got that from his father's side of the genes…

Leon stretched his neck as he shook the water from his hands, reaching for his work uniform and slipping it on quickly.

Today they'd be shipping in some new comers to Rapture… Probably some more snotty rich assholes who'd either ditch their kids at the Little Sister Orphanage or spend their days attending parties and babbling about their stupid artwork, either that or their latest discovery.

"Shit…" Leon sighed at the thought, kicking the door shut behind him.

"_Please, daddy_

_Even the clock keeps tickin'_

_Daddy won't you please come home?_

_Daddy do you have to roam so very long?_

_There's lots of other new sheiks who would like to be sheikin'_

_Haven't slipped yet, but I'm liable to weaken_

_Daddy, daddy, won't you please come home?"_

_

* * *

_Okay, I'll explain...

I hate leaving you guys with nothing to read! xD

Also, I posted this chapter to test the waters and such.

But this is in **no way** the final draft. Meaning I _might_ take it down after I get feedback and such.

**_OR_** I may leave it up and just continue posting chapters! We'll see.

As for this chapter... It's just okay for me dawg.

When I first wrote it I was satisified and not satisfied at the same time.

It's hard transitioning between stories, I hope you understand. And when I first wrote this I was in the middle of my Red Dead.

But for those of you who agree (It's just okay for you dawg) then let me just say ahead of time, this story get's a lot better.

And more interesting. This intro was kinda blah de blah for me. But whatever. xD

But anyway, I posted this up for feedback, so old and new readers alike, please leave reviews or send me a message critiquing or praising this chapter. :D

On a sidenote: I bought both Assassin's Creed 1 & 2. I'm still only on the first one but I really like it so far. It's a nice slate for tons of ideas. AND, in fact, I have two ideas for stories already. But, before I even start writing either of those, I need to beat both games and study more about the plot. But I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm brainstorming as we speak! For... three stories at a time...

Brain: fried but entertained greatly and on constant plot bunny crack.

I LOOOVVVEEE you guys. YAY, I love posting.


	2. Welcome To Rapture

_December 29th, 1957_

Emmy could feel the anxiety in her stomach, gnawing and nipping all the way up to her heart in leaps. She eyed the woman beside her curiously in her excitement, obviously rich and impatient.

She was a Russian woman by the sound of her accent, her little pearly white cat in her arms looking around frantically as the bathysphere opened in front of them.

"It's perfectly safe ladies, I assure you." Mr. Ryan's voice came from Emmy's side, his hand on the small of her back as he nudged her forward. "You're luggage has been transported to your rooms."

"Thank you Mr-,"

"Good, I'll not have my priceless possessions at risk with…" The woman looked down at Emmy from under her large, crooked nose. "Certain types…"

Emmy decided not to say anything on that insult… Thinking that perhaps it not wise to pick a fight with a larger, richer woman. She had to stick to her plan of good behavior if she wanted to get into the business…

"Ah… yes. Well Miss I assure you, no theft of your possessions will occur. Now, if you would please board the bathysphere?"

The woman studied Mr. Ryan briefly before giving a little huff of higher authority, stepping into the dripping, copper colored machine.

Emmy was hesitant at first, studying the contraption with wary caramel eyes. She could feel Mr. Ryan urging her on politely, so she immediately stepped in.

She simply convinced herself it was an elevator…

It had been a long trip simply to get to the lighthouse which led down to Rapture.

First a trip in the biggest plane Emmy had ever seen from New York to Iceland's capital, Reykjavik. Then Emmy and several other richly and elaborately dressed men and women boarded a boat that sailed to the lighthouse.

During this time Emmy had a lot to think about…

She wondered how exactly she'd react to living in a city at the bottom of the ocean… It seemed so dangerous. And she wondered how they were able to sustain such a large, self-sufficient city in the middle of the ocean…

At least now the girl knew what Mr. Ryan needed her father's metals and glasses for…

She also thought on how she would keep in contact with her parents. She supposed she'd ask Mr. Ryan about such things once she was settled in Rapture.

Emmy had a lot of questions that needed answering. Hopefully she'd get the answers she wanted...

As the door shut on the three and one feline, Emmy felt a little jump of fear crawl into her chest.

The girl had always been a little claustrophobic ever since she got locked in the closet when she was 6. So as she felt the bathysphe-… _Elevator_, starting to descend down into the water, she started to feel the slightest bit panicky.

"10 fathoms…" Mr. Ryan spoke just as the large machine passed a marker in the water, bubbles running up the glass window. "18 fathoms…"

Suddenly a screen slid up over the window, covering it from view. From there it began playing a… movie.

Emmy looked to her side at Mr. Ryan, studying his proud smile as the music played through-out the small space.

"_I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question…" _The speakers played, _"Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? No! Says the man in Washington, it belongs to the poor. No! Says the man in the Vatican, it belongs to God. No! Says the man in Moscow, it belongs to everyone."_

Emmy watched with wide, curious eyes as the movie played, showing various images with the sound of Mr. Ryan's voice. She could feel the jostling of the bathysphere, but the movie was a nice distraction from the thought of where she truly was.

"_I rejected those answers… Instead, I chose something different… I chose the impossible!"_ Emmy began to recognize this speech with the rising climax of the music, glancing at Mr. Ryan before settling her eyes back on the screen. _"I chose… Rapture…"_

The screen sunk back down to reveal the outside world of the ocean, bringing a gasp to Emmy's lips.

It was… _beautiful_.

The lights of the city shown through the corral and schools of small, colorful fish that scurried out of the large, bathysphere's way. Sharks swam past, octopuses floated across the water in such a graceful way Emmy found herself lost for words.

It was nothing like Emmy had ever seen… The combination of vast marine wildlife and a large, bright, and flamboyant city that very much reminded her of New York…

It was all so much to take in! She didn't even know where to look first.

"_A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."_

"Mr. Ryan…" Emmy breathed, studying the strange, new world as Andrew Ryan studied her. "This is _incredible_…"

"Isn't it?" The man sighed in admiration of his work. "It took me 5 years to build…"

"Only 5?" Emmy repeated, looking over at the man in surprise as they were now emerging up from a long tunnel just like the one they descended into the ocean with. "This kind of technology only took 5 years?"

The man seemed very satisfied with himself upon the praise of the young woman beside him, smiling kindly at her as the bathysphere door opened. "Yes my dear, technology has come a very long way."

Emmy followed Mr. Ryan along with the large Russian woman—the girl never got her name—as they emerged from the dripping bathysphere and into a beautifully furnished room. It looked like the fanciest of places back in New York, with many beautifully dressed men and women walking around casually.

"This is the lounge, the Welcome to Rapture center." Mr. Ryan smiled, seeming not to care that the Russian woman simply ventured off on her own with her twitchy cat. "These are all newcomers to Rapture, just like you… But I assume you know that you're special…"

Emmy looked over at the man on her arm as he guided her through people and up a flight of stairs.

"I'm special Mr. Ryan?"

"Please, call me Andrew…" The man shook his head with a chuckle. "And yes Amelia, you are special because you are going to be a star in Rapture… That is why you get a very special tour of my city."

* * *

"Leon!"

The man turned around sharply but… he wasn't fast enough.

Leon winced as the hard, cold fish slammed into the side of his head. The sight caused an uproar of laughter among his companions as the fish flopped and wriggled on the ground in suffocation.

He sighed and held back a shiver of disgust at the slimy, wet smell that now came from his cheek.

"Hey asshole! Watch it!" Leon yelled at the man who was laughing the hardest—the one who threw the fish in the first place—his best friend Jerry Andre.

"Aw come on Leo… It was funny!" His friend chuckled as he clapped a hand on Leon's shoulder. "I didn't hurt that pretty face of yours."

Leon studied his companion's not-so-pretty face, various scars and deformations on his skin from his use of ADAM.

"Bullshit…" Leon rolled his eyes, picking up the stupid fish and throwing it down the line.

"Hey Leo, what's up with you?" Jerry asked, his red, scarred face studying the younger man as he wiped the fish slime off his face in irritation.

Leon looked over at Jerry with a glare, giving a shrug as he caught the next fish thrown to him. "Georgia's pissy again."

"Aw man… that broad's _still_ givin' you shit?" The man laughed, shaking his head at the thought of such a situation.

A hooker thinkin' that her buyer is her husband is one tough situation…

Leon was a good looking kid, charming too. It wasn't unusual for women like her to love men like Leon.

"Yeah you bet…" Leon sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead on the back of his arm. "This morning, after I finished… You know… I told her to leave right?"

"Right."

"Well she goes, 'I'm not done.'" Leon explains in an exaggerated impersonation of a high-pitched, nasally Brooklyn accent, causing many of the dirty, smelly men around him to chuckle knowingly. "And I say, 'Well I am, so get your ass outta here.'"

Jerry laughed heartily along with the men of the line, passing fish down the line routinely as he shook his head. "You're a dick Leon."

"Yeah, that's what she said too." The younger man laughed, shaking his head as he caught a soda that was thrown to him. "But who knows, I'm getting a good cut from Fontaine for the escorting I did for that beef he wanted. Maybe I'll be able to afford Jasmine Jolene now eh?"

"Nice try boyo, that's Ryan's piece." One man chuckled, watching Leon drink the soda with a nod.

"Yeah well Ryan's got a lot of girls; he can afford to share one." Leon replied, failing to notice his companion's wary glances. "He's richer then God anyhow… So who gives a shit if I steal from the basta-,"

Leon looked up from his casual stance leaning against a crate of fish, the freshly lit cigarette smoking into his mouth and sticking to is tongue at his lack to breathe out.

There on the other side of the dock walkway in the fishery walked Andrew Ryan and that cop-type Sullivan. But they weren't alone; at their side was a nicely dressed young woman.

Leon sighed as he received a light elbow to his side and a nod in Andrew Ryan's direction from Jerry.

"Wonder what his majesty is doing down in this shithole with that lass, eh?"

Leon shrugged, studying the girl at Ryan's side carefully.

This broad was most likely Ryan's newest girl. Either that or she was going to be.

Ryan looked at her like he looked at Jasmine and that other chick he sleeps with. All these God damn fashion models that would sleep with the fattest bastard in the world just to get their 15 minutes of fame.

Ryan gestured to certain parts of Raptures build, some structures of various boring subjects that the old bastard was so fuckin' proud of.

Leon narrowed his eyes as he took a swig of his soda, watching the three higher-ups as they began to circle around the fishery more towards the direction of the young man's section. They were close enough to eavesdrop on now.

"Have there ever been any leaks?" The girl asked in a cute kind of curious tone, looking up at the man on her arm. She was completely unaware of the poorer, unfortunate men only a couple yards away from her… Funny how rich folks were.

"No Amelia, nothing major fortunately. We're quite safe; I'll have you know my dear." Ryan smiled in that pompous way of his.

Leon studied the girl more closely as Andrew Ryan went into one of his long, boring as fuck rants on some kind of science.

But man, for as square the bastard was, Ryan sure knew how to pick the girls.

This one was a sweet, bright kind of beautiful—pretty cute. She had these big, almond-shaped amber eyes, accentuated by long, dark lashes and those slight touches of shadow women used. Nice red lips too, heart shaped top lip and a cute bubble bottom lip. And dark, defining brows against the contrast of perfectly smooth cream skin.

Her hair was in the usual fashion ladies wore, reaching her shoulders in those waves of highlighted chocolate locks.

She was small with wider hips and a small intake of a waist, a nice looking hour-glass shape. Cute body, one Leon could picture with lack of clothing.

Perhaps it was because Leon wasn't used to seeing such a happy looking girl, but he felt himself instantly intrigued by her.

It wasn't necessarily anything but an attraction to her looks, no sappy shit.

But she was just… interesting.

As to why such an innocent looking girl in her early twenties was with such an intense, opinionated bastard like Ryan was… Confusing.

"Who's that?" Leon asked Jerry, keeping his dark brown eyes on the girl as he leaned his elbow against the crate beside him.

"Hm?" Jerry looked up at Leon, who nodded to the girl. "Heh. Nice piece of ass don't you think?"

Leon glanced over at his friend who eyed the girl, furrowing his brow before giving a shrug. "That wasn't my question moron."

Jerry looked at his younger companion, studying his impatient glare and taking in the constant smug air about him.

"Alright, alright. Sorry, shit." The man chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Dunno. Haven't heard of her. Looks like some broad who'll jump on Ryan's dick for some fame. What else is new?"

Leon considered this as the highest possibility, but there was that innocent light in the girl's eye, and the bursting excitement in her smile. It was…

Refreshing.

"Heads up!"

Leon once again felt the hard, cold feeling of a fish's body slam into his head, causing the girl and the two men at her side to look over in question of the shout.

The girl studied Leon as he looked at her after recovering from the blow. She didn't look very disgusted by the scene. Instead she was smiling, as if she thought it was funny that he had been hit in the head with a fish.

"My apologies Amelia. The Fishery doesn't always maintain a professional front… Let's move onto the Kashmir Restaurant? You can observe your stage…"

Leon watched the girl take her eyes from him and settle them on Andrew at her side, smiling brightly at him and nodding. "Alright."

He watched the three visitors leave as Leon's co-workers laughed loudly at his apparent slow reflexes.

He waited just until the girl was around the corner until he shoved Jerry down into the muddy sludge underneath the dock walkway.

* * *

Walking through Rapture was like living in the strangest and most wondrous of dreams. Every place Mr. Ryan took Emmy—accompanied by Sullivan, a very kind police man of sorts—she was astonished by the technological prowess.

There were automatic doors that simply opened upon closeness to them! Emmy had never heard of such a thing… The most advanced thing she had seen was… well, probably the basic television set.

The girl could tell that she wasn't to see all of Rapture in one sitting. Ryan mostly took her to the beautiful, wealthy parts of the city.

She somewhat appreciated it, but the curiosity in her ached to know everything about this place.

People simply seemed… happy. Almost as if in a trance of euphoria that extended in the air of this utopia. It felt magical to Emmy.

Families roamed the streets, young couples in love walked hand and hand, elderly couples relaxed in benches to observe the people that passed. It was all so… Perfect.

Emmy did of course find herself missing her parents already. She wished that they could have come with her and seen this magnificent new world.

But Mr. Ryan seemed touchy on the subject of contact with the outer world. She had asked him and he had made a face of distaste…

"Ah, Andrew I was wondering about something…" Emmy had asked the man as they walked through the streets of Olympus Heights towards the girl's supposed new home. "My mother is the… rather maternal type. It near broke her heart to let me go here all alone."

"Mm." The man nodded, seeming to only be half listening as he looked around at his city's residents.

"I was just thinking that perhaps I could call my parents every once and a while? To let them know I made it here safe."

Emmy had been surprised by the look she received from Andrew… It was a look of exasperation and perhaps… Suspicion?

But then the look faded into a guarded smile.

Emmy knew that Mr. Ryan was a rather intense, tenacious man when it came to his beliefs… But still, such behavior had caught her off guard. She just wanted to speak to her parents, not some government official.

"Amelia… I built Rapture with the intention of escaping the oppression of the parasites in government and religion… Any contact with the surface could very well compromise Rapture's existence. Do you want that?"

"Ah- No! No Mr. Ryan of course not." Emmy shook her head, furrowing her brow up at the man as she blinked. "I just… My parents would know to keep Rapture's existence a secret. If I could just… Send them a letter maybe?"

The man didn't answer for a moment, as if he hadn't even heard the girl. He simply nodded politely to the people he passed, smiling kindly as most mayors and such usually did.

Emmy found herself getting irritated…

What was so bad about contacting her parents? Mr. Ryan knew her parents! He'd even employed her father in the helping of building this very city.

If anyone would be allowed to contact outside family it should be Emmy. Considering her father help built this place…

But Emmy had to swallow her complaints… After all, it wasn't the men who built an empire that had a say, it was the men who paid for it…

Besides… If Emmy wanted a place in Rapture she had to get on the good side of the right people. She had to play her cards right.

"Ah… I'm sorry. I know it's not my place…" Emmy finally spoke up, although still being ignored by Mr. Ryan. "I believe in Rapture Mr. Ryan… I truly do."

The man then looked over, a pleasant but odd smile on his face as he began to slow to a stop.

"I'm sure you do dear Amelia… And I appreciate anyone willing to sacrifice for Rapture."

Emmy watched the man carefully as he patted her on the shoulder politely. What a strange person…

"Now, I've arranged a home for you here." Emmy decided to put the strange incident behind her, looking up at the sign above her that read 'Athena's Glory' in big, bold flashing lights. "Just tell the nice lady at the desk your name and she'll escort you to your room…"

Indeed she was escorted to her 'room'. Although, it was probably as big as her apartment back in New York.

And lord was it lush…

"Your bags are near the bed Ms. Rousseau." The woman behind Emmy said, but she wasn't listening.

Her wide, awed eyes were focused above her on the ceiling of her apartment. The ceiling was glass, revealing not only the amazing structures of Rapture, but the fish and plant life of the ocean.

It was like going to an aquarium, only this had a far more magical essence that made Emmy's heart ache.

The woman that escorted Emmy to her room seemed to guess that she was mesmerized by the fantastic sight. She was used to the first timer's reactions; she herself had done the same upon the sight in her own room. It was only natural.

So the employee of Athena's Glory simply smiled, slowly exiting the room and shutting the door behind her.

Emmy hadn't noticed, she simply watched the large great white shark swim leisurely over the top of her apartment.

The girl stood there for a long time, simply watching the fish and various creatures that crossed past her ceiling. They must've been used to the giant city being there, for they just swam by like it was any old piece of corral.

"Ain't that something…" Emmy mumbled quietly to herself, a small smile on her lips as she felt the giddiness overcome her once again.

She felt like a pioneer in moving to Rapture. It was such a secret, thriving place… Like a newly discovered country.

It felt like a whole new world in it's own, as if the people walking the streets were natives to a different planet…

Emmy bit her lip with the rise of contentment in her chest; her heals clicking hollowly along the floor as she explored the rest of her apartment.

It wasn't too fancy, but it was certainly sharply designed. Something Emmy found beautiful—she loved her new home immediately.

There was even a fireplace! And a large closet… A big queen sized bed with red satin sheets… It was surely lavish…

Which also brought the question of how expensive this place would be each month… And exactly how she would earn enough to pay for it.

Certainly she would pursue a singing career in the supposed many clubs and restaurants around Rapture. But perhaps they already had a singer? What would she do for work then…?

The girl's thoughts drifted to the men down in Fontaine Fisheries… Would she have to work a job like that…?

Although, now that Emmy thought about it, there was something certainly wrong with the majority of the men down in that Fishery.

Many of them were physically disfigured. Some had facial distortions and some had odd, misshapen limbs. Perhaps they were survivors from the war?

At first Emmy thought that Ryan simply put these poor, unfortunate disabled men down in a hard, dirty job—away from the beautiful, rich people of upper class Rapture. Which, in Emmy's opinion, was rather hypocritical. Considering Ryan's philosophy that every man has his chance to make a living like the next man.

But then Emmy saw that young man who had been hit with the fish. He wasn't at all disfigured—quite the opposite.

A rather charming looking man. The dangerous looking type that attracted women like a fly to light.

She was going to ask Mr. Ryan what had happened to these men but figured he'd be vague or irritated if she asked.

Emmy found herself wondering where those men lived… Certainly not in apartments like this.

The girl had always been perhaps too compassionate for her own good. She cared far too much for it to be wise.

But seeing those men made her wonder exactly what kind of place Ryan was running… Certainly not this utopia he boasted of, no matter how beautiful and lush it was.

Though, Emmy would never say that to Mr. Ryan. Not until she was more comfortable around the man…

Emmy was about to turn to investigate the bathroom when she saw several unfamiliar dresses lying neatly on her large bed.

The girl briefly wondered whether she was in the wrong room. But upon looking at her hand-me-down suitcases she knew she wasn't, that perhaps these dresses were a gift?

Emmy walked over slowly, studying the 7 dresses that lay in a neat line, side by side.

They were all beautiful, most likely very expensive judging by the design.

And of course, they were from Mr. Ryan…

For as strange of a man he was, he certainly seemed generous to the women who caught his eye…

The brunette wondered how many _other_ women caught Andrew Ryan's eye… A fair dozen she assumed.

The girl snorted at her own humor as she lifted up a red dress with big, bright flowers strewn over it's material. It was a beautiful dress, elegant yet wearable.

Despite her wariness of Mr. Ryan, she found herself trying on each of the dresses with the kind of giddiness a young child has in a candy store.

She twirled across the room, humming along with the song playing on the record player in the far corner of the room.

Emmy wasn't one to easily get embarrassed, so she certainly put on a show for the fishies of the Atlantic Ocean.

A note had come with the red dress. It was signed from Andrew Ryan saying that she was to wear this dress to dinner tonight at the Kashmir Restaurant.

This irked Emmy in the way that the man was bossing her around as if she were his wife… She could wear whatever the hell she wanted…

The girl briefly considered simply going naked to the restaurant when a knock on the door sounded nicely through the room. The girl, currently wearing all the pearls she owned, her fanciest high heels, and one of the more flashier dresses Andrew gave her, briefly wondered whether it would be Mr. Ryan himself, here to dictate her on how to put on lipstick.

But upon opening the door Emmy was greeted by the face of the woman who had escorted her here earlier.

The woman eyed Emmy's choice of fashion briefly with a hint of amusement before clearing her throat. "Ms. Rousseau, Mr. Ryan has requested you meet him at the Kashmir Restaurant at 8:30."

"Oh, thank you Ms…"

"Ms. Hunt."

"Thank you Ms. Hunt." Emmy grinned, giving her a polite nod before shutting the door. The girl leaned against the doorframe behind her with a sigh.

She was rather tired after a very long time traveling from New York to Iceland, then from Iceland to Rapture.

The whole situation was… overwhelming.

But Emmy supposed that if she were to become a successful performer in Rapture that she had to spread her personality around as soon as possible.

Her eyes drifted over to the clock hanging on the wall, pursing her lips upon realizing that it was almost 7:30.

Well… Off to socialize…

* * *

I'm sorry I haven't posted... For those who are reading.

I got a few private reviews with questions about writing styles, which is exactly what I wanted. :D

And to the lovely reader who left a public review, thank you. You're actually one of my most faithful readers!

I've been really caught up playing Undead Nightmare for Red Dead Redemption. And I even got more writing in for my next story! So... Yay!

I'll keep posting this story even though I'm not finished with it. Which is in the danger zone for me.

I like to finish a story before I post it so I can go back and make any major plot changes or just simple grammatical corrections.

But I feel like I'll lose people's interest if I don't provide reading material. xD

So I'll post chapters.

I hope you like it so far!


	3. Trials of ADAM and EVE

"Ah… You wore the dress, very good."

Emmy smiled, despite the irritation settling uncomfortably in her chest at having to obey a man she knew scarcely.

But it was worth it to get into the Kashmir, considering that it seemed to be a very exclusive and swanky place. Fortunately there was no singer there, only a jukebox which played various popular tunes that Emmy knew by heart.

She felt slightly out of place among the many beautifully dressed women, laughing and talking amongst one another.

There were also many important looking men, some in the company of women and some with their colleagues.

It was all grand and glamorous… What Emmy very much loved in this line of business.

But upon spotting Andrew Ryan at his table she realized that he wasn't alone. With him was a strange looking man, rather on the small side. He had slicked black hair and an almost comical pencil mustache. He was nicely dressed in a fine tuxedo, though he exuded the air of a higher arrogance.

The two were also joined by Sullivan, who was smiling up at the girl kindly.

Emmy liked Sullivan, he was a very polite man with a deep accent that reminded her of her days in New York.

"Yes, Mr. Ryan. Thank you for the dresses, they're all very beautiful." Emmy smiled as she sat down.

The girl eyed the man sitting next to Andrew, the small man with the odd mustache.

He was studying her as well, his small eyes observing her dress and face in a solid poker face that made the girl uncomfortable.

"Amelia this is Sander Cohen, the leader of the art and performing community in Rapture." Emmy suddenly felt the very strong need to impress this fine man… "Sander, this is Amelia Rousseau, a very exceptional singer."

"It's just the finest pleasure Mr. Cohen…" Emmy smiled grandly, holding out her hand to the man.

Mr. Cohen looked at the girl's outstretched hand for a moment before smiling the smallest of smiles, reaching out and gripping the girl's hand for the briefest of moments in a stiff manner.

"The pleasure is all mine to meet a fellow lover of the arts…" Mr. Cohen nodded as he released the girl's hand. Emmy's smile broadened in agreement as the man held up his wine glass in a toast.

The girl reached for the wine glass set in front of her promptly by a waiter and clinked it gently against Sander Cohen's, then taking a small sip of the sweet liquid.

"Do you act as well Ms. Rousseau?"

"Ah, yes… I was in a fair few plays upon my move to New York, but singing is my passion."

"Mm." The man agreed with a slight nod, eyeing the girl over the rim of his wine glass.

She was too bubbly for his taste… Too… sweet. Like an over-ripened peach.

He supposed she must have her tart somewhere… But she obviously believed that the happy-go-lucky act was what made her interesting.

To be honest he viewed her as having potential… A small town girl with that pleasant Carolina accent, cute enough, supposed exceptional voice.

Men liked those innocent girls. It was a popular theme he supposed. But they usually only like the innocent girls when they had a secret tigress hiding beneath the candy visage.

"So, Amelia, how do you like your new home?"

The girl smiled at Mr. Ryan after taking another sip of the strong wine, settling her hands in her lap politely. "It was magnificent. I stood there staring through the ceiling for who knows how long…"

Sullivan laughed slightly from the girl's side, giving her a smile as she looked over.

"That was my reaction too Ms. Rousseau… Quite the sight isn't it?"

"Oh yes." Emmy nodded, glancing briefly at a woman who had been traveling from table to table. She must be the hostess… Emmy made a note to introduce herself sometime soon. "I find it fascinating what the best minds in the world are able to build… The technology of this place is amazing."

"Yes… I wanted Rapture to be fit for the best." Ryan smiled in that odd way of his, shifting the ice around in his scotch thoughtfully.

"Mr. Cohen, I was wondering…"

Sander looked up upon his address, keeping his poker face as he eyed the girl.

"I would like to make a living as a performer here in Rapture… So I'd just like to know if there are any places, besides the Kashmir of course, that you yourself find fit for proper entertainment."

Sander watched the girl for a moment before taking a deep breath, inclining his head to the side as he narrowed his eyes.

"I reside in a place of Rapture called Fort Frolic… Do you know of it?"

"No sir, I haven't yet had time to explore the entire city yet." Emmy replied with a smile. Although she supposed she should have studied the map that was lying in the desk back in her apartment.

It came with the room as a guide around Rapture. Rather helpful… If she had actually _read_ it…

"Well... Fort Frolic is an area for adults… There are shopping boutiques, lounges and bars… and the Fleet Hall, where I put on plays and musical performances for the fine people of Rapture." The man explained. He seemed like such a snobby man to Emmy… But she supposed most people in this business were. "I'm arranging a play called Patrick and Moira. Auditions are on the Friday after the New Years party, beginning at 3 PM. You're welcome to attend."

Emmy smiled widely at the man, leaning forward slightly in interest as Ryan and Sullivan talked quietly amongst themselves.

"That sounds just perfect! What is this play about?"

"Hm… Well, I can only tell you that it is a love story and that I myself have written it… But I can't spoil the surprise can I?"

Emmy inclined her head to the side with a small smile, Sander Cohen giving her a haughty smile and the slight tip of his glass.

"Of course Mr. Cohen… Naturally…" Emmy laughed softly before tipping her glass in return and taking a small sip.

Emmy knew that socializing was key, but these men—besides Sullivan—were so… Odd.

All Andrew talked about were his views on society, and when he wasn't talking about his opinion, he wasn't at all interested in anything else but Rapture's success.

From what Emmy could tell about Sander Cohen was that he was a rather… Particular man. Artists usually were…

Although he was rather _interesting_ Emmy didn't want to risk getting on Mr. Cohen's bad side. For as strange and haughty as the man seemed, she certainly needed him as a friend.

So for the majority of the night Emmy sat and listened to the men talk, sparing a few jokes to the gentlemen here and there. She was playing the obedient role of interesting, entertaining young girl. One she was used to playing when men talked.

But eventually one gets tired of simply being the pretty thing listening to men speak of… men things.

Emmy looked over her shoulder at the small space cleared for the dancers. Many people were dancing with the catchy song that seemed to bounce and dance itself out of the jukebox.

The girl briefly thought over her ponderings earlier that evening… About the men down in the docks of Fontaine Fisheries.

She knew that Mr. Ryan wouldn't tell her anything about the men. And she certainly doubted that Mr. Cohen knew about the men. So perhaps Sullivan would have the answers Emmy needed…

"Sullivan, would you like to dance?" Emmy smiled at the man grandly before looking at Cohen and Ryan. "If you gentlemen don't mind of course…"

"Not at all Amelia." Andrew smiled slightly before turning back to Sander and speaking in a quiet voice.

Emmy watched the two men across from her for a moment, studying the way they looked around the restaurant as if something were constantly on the brink of bursting through the door… as if they knew something.

But the girl knew that these men were intense if not paranoid about things. At least, she knew that was how Mr. Ryan viewed things.

So Emmy turned to Sullivan, meeting his smile with a grin. "Shall we Miss?"

* * *

"You sure you ain't comin' Leon?"

The man's brown eyes cast over his shoulder as his companions made their way towards The Fighting McDonagh's, giving a shrug as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Nah." The man retreated casually from the docks as he heard the fading laughter and talk of his friends, along with the loud music coming from the tavern.

Leon was tired to be honest. Some days were just way too fuckin' exhausting. He smelled like fish, he was dirty, and his face felt sticky from the multiple fish slaps that he had received today. His tolerance for anymore crap was wavering on a _thin_ line.

Maybe it was the shit start to a morning… Waking up with Georgia still in his bed and then deciding to take morning glory out on her was a bad idea on his part.

Or maybe it was seeing that cute new dame with Ryan, all smiley and happy. He wondered how many other women he was playing with… The lucky bastard.

Leon came down here thinking he would make a good living in a brand, sparklin' new city. Little did he know was that Rapture was for the best of the best; the men who thought they were the real Gods.

Leon never had any talents. He was good at working he supposed, which landed him right where he'd always been: working class.

The man sighed as he nodded in a goodbye to his fellow workers, glancing at them as he watched them passing an EVE syringe between one another—a real unhealthy way to go about things...

Leon wondered what it was like to do EVE, but mostly what ADAM would be like. He heard it fucked with your body, which he trusted, despite his usual wariness with that Tenenbaum; especially after seeing the real life results of the stuff.

He remembered seeing the first time that Jerry had spliced up. He had said to Leon that he just wanted to 'try' it. By next week he caught Jerry stocking up with as much EVE hypos he could buy from one of them vending machines around Rapture.

Leon knew Jerry was addicted to the stuff, for as much as he denied it.

Most everyone was now. Even those rich people up in Olympus Heights.

He knew Georgia had started taking EVE not too long ago. Ever since then she started getting this weird rash on her arm.

She was real self conscience about it, but she didn't even think twice about quitting EVE. Oh no, because no one can give up their damn drug.

He wondered briefly if that girl that was with Ryan did ADAM… She didn't look like it.

When people did the drug they began to lose their teeth and look like their skin got baked. It was some nasty shit.

And now they were selling those plasmids… Leon thought it was stupid to freely sell plasmids when there are plenty bat shit crazy people. Suppose someone got the idea to have a big fight with nothing but plasmids? With fire, ice, and inanimate objects flying around people could die.

Leon also knew that the recent disappearing of all these little girls had to do something with these God damn splicers…

Leon wasn't a necessarily sympathetic man, but his mother raised him to be nice to ladies. At least, he knew not to hit them or any shit like that.

So thinking about some weird fellas kidnapping little girls for… whatever their minds desire. It angered him.

They were just little girls… what would you wanna hurt them for? Yeah they can be brats, but all girls are.

It made him even angrier that Ryan didn't do anything about it. Like he gave a shit about anyone but the upper class anyway…

He supposed being so angry about things that were basic society was pointless. What was he supposed to do? Go up to Ryan and say, "I don't like how you're runnin' things bub!"

He'd be thrown in Persephone faster then you could blink...

That's how Ryan liked things… If someone challenged him or posed as a threat, he either got them killed through that Sullivan or threw them in the clink.

"Give me that God damn ADAM!"

As Leon began making his way down the glass tunnel-way towards Pauper's Drop he could hear the struggling and shuffle of feet, followed by a loud slap. It was coming from the door that led into The Drop, it certainly sounded close.

"Shit…" Leon sighed, hesitating slightly as he made a face, pausing in his step as he eyed the large metal door.

Of course… On his way home he _had_ to run into splicers…

The ones in The Drop, on account of being already mentally disturbed and or depressed, were the _worst_ kind of splicer.

They were angry, aggressive, and all they wanted was to get their fix.

Leon usually tried to avoid those fuckers. He wasn't _afraid_, necessarily. He could usually hold his own in a fight. But…

Splicers are different then the regular chump. They're stronger and bolder. They don't much care about what happens to them or anyone else…

Leon figured that maybe if he just acted like they weren't even there that he'd get home without being bothered. Then he'd be able to wash all this crap off him and go to bed without his tolerance taking its last hit for the day.

He began walking forward once again, passing a couple as he lit a cigarette, taking the first puff of smoke in a large breath as he stretched his neck.

"I bought the ADAM with _my_ God damn money! Back off!"

Leon's brow furrowed upon the familiarity of that voice… a _woman's_ voice. He slowed to a stop just a few feet in front of the large door, taking a moment to listen to the scene.

"Yeah, yeah who gives a crap?" A male voice growled, his tone distorted and rough from the ADAM abuse. "Just hand it over and we'll let you go."

It sounded like it was multiple men against one woman… Tough call, especially with splicers involved…

"Fat chance! I worked hard for this shit!" The girl exclaimed, followed by her shriek and a shuffle of feet.

Leon leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he tried to remember where he'd heard that voice before. It was familiar but it was masked by the rugged, deep sound of a throat virtually destroyed by ADAM.

Unfortunately, Leon failed to remember that the doors in Rapture opened automatically upon close proximity...

His eyes caught sight of three men, most obviously splicers by the disturbing looking scars and distortions on their faces and bodies. They all surrounded a girl—… _Georgia_?

Leon knew her nasally, nagging voice anywhere, but since when did it get all tweaked by splicing? Just this morning it sounded fine…

But upon looking at her more closely he noticed that her rash had spread up her arm, and now her face had become swollen and red. Either from splicing or from being hit by these men.

Either way Leon was involved now. As much as Georgia irritated him he knew he couldn't leave her at the hands of these men.

There had been enough deaths around Rapture lately; he didn't really want Georgia to be one of them.

"Hey, why don't you three leave her alone? She bought the ADAM, get your own." Leon sighed, shaking his head at having to be involved and possibly get the shit beaten out of him.

"Cut the gas pretty boy! I don't have time for your crap." One of the more deformed looking men growled over his shoulder, his blood-shot, glassy eyes framed by sagging skin.

Leon winced slightly upon the sight of it, furrowing his brow at the painful looking sores on the man's face.

"Take a picture kid, it'll last longer!" The man who was holding onto Georgia snapped, shoving the girl to the ground after taking the EVE hypo from her purse.

"Give that back!" Georgia exclaimed in a disturbing kind of desperation, grabbing onto the man's dirty pant leg and tugging hard on it.

"Georgia, knock it off." Leon narrowed his eyes at the girl, causing her to look up. "Why don't you three get bent, alright? You got your stuff now leave the girl alone."

Two of the men laughed, seeming to think Leon was some kind of sideshow as they turned to leave. But the one that had the most painful looking side-effects of the drug didn't budge, glaring at Leon in a kind of creepy anger that had the younger man tensing.

"What's wrong with my face kid? Not as nice as yours?"

Leon narrowed his eyes, figuring it was stupid to play along. All he wanted was to get home with peace of mind in saving a _stupid_ girl from _stupid_ splicers.

But... he didn't like the teasing challenge in the man's voice...

"You got a _little_ scratch… here." Leon smirked, motioning with a pointed finger to the entirety of the man's face mockingly. "You might wanna get that checked out sport-,"

Leon knew it was coming before it happened. The man instantly grabbed Leon's finger and bent it back, distracting the younger man before slamming his fist into his face.

Leon spluttered at the strength of the man's fist, instantly throwing a blind hit in retaliation against the splicer. But it wasn't very effective with all three of them on him now, punching and pounding against him with the enhanced strength ADAM provided.

"Stop it!" Leon heard Georgia shout out as his body hit the ground with a thud.

The wind was knocked out of his lungs with the next kick to his stomach, sending his eyes blurry and his throat dry as he wheezed in the dirty puddle he fell in.

"Smart ass." One of the men scoffed, giving him one last kick in the side before walking off with his two companions.

Leon felt the soreness through-out his entire body as he panted, rolling over onto his back in the wetness of the ground as he winced deeply. He could feel the blood dripping down from his nose, sliding along his neck uncomfortably as Georgia rushed over to him.

She reached to help him up but Leon grunted in protest, shooting her a dark glare before pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"I'm so sorry Leon! I'm… I'm really sorr-,"

"I know, I know… You're sorry, you're always sorry." Leon snapped harshly, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his arm. "What the hell are you doing? If I hadn't stepped in you would'a been beaten up or killed."

"I know…" Georgia sighed, her blood-shot eyes scanning over the damage on the young man's face. Most likely a black eye in the making and a broken nose… The girl knew Leon had been in a lot of fights before; he was that kind of cocky... He'd be able to take care of himself… hopefully.

"All for that stupid… _drug_…" Leon wheezed as he slowly stood, once again pushing the girl away lightly as she tried to help him.

"It's not a drug!" The girl immediately protested, causing the man to look over at her with exasperated, narrowed eyes. "Leon… It's not… It's just-,"

"Addictive and horrible for you." Leon finished for her as he brushed past her. And of course, she followed him like a lost puppy. She always had. "Making you think in that _thick_ head of yours that you can take on three splicers just for one God damn hypo."

"Well I worked hard for that money! Now I won't be able to buy anymore until next payment…" The girl sighed as she quickly followed along the taller, faster man as he stormed through the drop, ignoring the looks in his direction. "Speaking of which… Do you think I can come see ya tonigh-,"

The girl almost ran into the man as he immediately stopped, turning around and facing the girl with an intimidating glare and clenched fists of pronounced irritation. He opened his mouth to say something as the girl looked up at him, her eyes darting back and forth between the dark brown depths she loved.

Then he sighed, shaking his head as he wiped the fresh blood from his mouth and nose on his already bloodied arm. "No Georgia, no more of that shit."

Georgia watched Leon walk away for a moment before swallowing back the worry in her throat, scurrying after him quickly.

"W-Wait! Leon, what do you mean?"

"I mean no more _us_. There never _was_ an 'us' anyway." The man growled, looking over his shoulder at the girl before concentrating back on his apartment complex, The Sinclair Deluxe. It was so close, only so many steps until he'd be there... "I'm not paying for you anymore."

"Well-, okay! I'll do it for free! I just… Please Leon? Don't do this…"

Leon sighed, pausing just before opening the door to his apartment before turning to look at Georgia.

She looked to be on the verge of crying, her swollen, red skin taking away the pretty face that was once displayed. Her hair was a mess, dirty and the curls straightened with the fatigue of a long day. Her brown irises were much duller then they used to be, now framed by light purple eyelids and blood-shot eyes.

Despite his exasperation with the girl in front of him he felt sorry for her… She was obviously losing it, with her addiction and his obvious unreturned affection for her.

But he couldn't help it. He didn't want her in the slightest. Not anymore.

"Georgia, you're a nice girl. I just _don't_ want you…" Leon sighed, causing the girl to wince. "This… _relationship_, was never anything but a man paying for a good time from a prostitute… Okay?"

Georgia looked at Leon for a little while. She knew what looks she once possessed were fading quickly with her addiction. But she just couldn't stop splicing… It wasn't an option.

ADAM was the one thing that didn't reject her. Leon and every other guy in Rapture weren't interested anymore… The last business she had was this morning with Leon, and she hadn't even been paid.

She'd been kicked out of The Pink Pearl once they found out she was splicing… She couldn't go anywhere.

But what was she supposed to do? Ask Leon if she could live with him?

He'd always been so indifferent to her. He'd probably think she was trying to get in his pants…

"Okay." She simply nodded, taking a deep breath upon the crack in her voice before turning around.

Leon watched the girl go, studying her quick retreat as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

The man watched her until she disappeared out of the area, probably heading over to the Pearl.

She'd get over it. He knew she would. She was just that type of gal.

The man gave one last shake of his head before pushing into the apartment complex, wincing at the throbbing of his head as he trudged up the stairs.

* * *

"You're a right good dancer Amelia."

Emmy laughed merrily with the next twirl in Sullivan's arms, her bright smile causing a smile of his own to break out over his face.

"You're rather sharp there yourself Sullivan." The girl replied, causing him to chuckle slightly as they waltzed casually along the dance floor in time with all the other dancers. "Where'd the chief of security learn such smooth moves?"

"Born with 'em."

Emmy broke into another lilt of laughter, throwing her head back before shining her characteristic smile upon the man. "Oh of _course_!"

They twirled along the floor for a moment before Sullivan looked over at Ryan and Cohen, giving a little sigh before leaning closer to the girl's ear.

"I know those two can be pretty intimidatin' Amelia… But don't give it another thought, they're just rich men, that's all really."

Emmy smiled, giving the man a reassuring nod as she too glanced over at Andrew Ryan and Sander Cohen. They were still deep in conversation, Mr. Ryan seemingly explaining something to Cohen while Sander shook his head, gesturing with his hands grandly as he looked around in that familiar paranoid fashion.

"They do look to be on edge…" Emmy admitted, her feet moving in the dance steps automatically while she concentrated on the two men.

"Well with all the Fontaine stuff Mr. Ryan is pretty stressed. He goes to Cohen for advice."

Emmy turned her eyes back to Sullivan with her brow furrowed. He stared at the two men for another moment before meeting her questioning gaze.

"Fontaine as in… Fontaine Fisheries?"

"Yeah…" Sullivan nodded in confusion, tilting his head to the side as his dark eyes studied the girl in his arms. "Oh… That's right. You've just moved here, I doubt you know much about Rapture's… _issues_."

"Issues?" Emmy's curiosity perked as she went into a dip, leaning back up as they twirled in the slow, rhythmic circle. "No, can't say I do."

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in tellin' you. You would've found out eventually." The man shrugged, his deep accent rumbling through his chest and into Emmy's. "Well right now there is a kind of… civil war goin' on here in Rapture. And it's all centered around ADAM and money."

"Adam? Who's that?" Emmy asked, her eyes wide with interest at the mention of this so called 'civil war'. It certainly didn't seem like very much warfare was going on...

"ADAM is a drug, not a person." Sullivan corrected. "It was discovered by this dame named Tenenbaum. Fontaine made a business out of it, sellin' plasmids and such to the citizens of Rapture. It was this hyped thing, everyone wanted a cut. And everyone got it, even rich folks like Cohen and Fontaine do it. But what beloved Tenenbaum failed to mention is that this ADAM is aggressively addictive and causes deformation of the mind and body."

"ADAM is… a drug?" Emmy whispered, looking around before leaning in closer. "Does that mean those men down at the docks, the ones with the deformities and scars, they're addicted to this ADAM?"

"Yeah sweetie, everyone is. That's what's causin' Ryan to be on edge." Sullivan replied in a low, hushed voice. "You see, Frank Fontaine is a real powerful man, owns _a lot_ of business down here. He's the founder of a smuggling ring that is importing bibles and such into Rapture, something Ryan forbade."

"So… This man, Frank Fontaine, is a sort of… rival to Mr. Ryan?"

"You betcha." The man nodded. "Rival business men you could say… Rapture is split up into different believers. Some stick by Ryan, some stick by Fontaine. Mainly the upper class and some middle class are with Ryan, and most of the low-lifes hang around Fontaine, 'specially the men you saw in Fontaine Fisheries."

"So all these people are addicted to this drug that's obviously harming them and Ryan isn't making it illegal?" Emmy shook her head, failing to believe that someone, even a man so in favor of free will, would allow such… Destruction to human beings. The men in the docks were severely disfigured. This drug was most obviously harmful, so how is it possibly made legal?

"Well, you know Ryan… he's a very… Capitalistic man, to put it lightly… And ADAM is a gold mine." Sullivan sighed. "I like the guy, he's not all bad. But he is so bent on giving out free will that he allows anyone to splice up as long as they can pay for it."

"Splice up?" Emmy narrowed her eyes in confusion as Sullivan shrugged.

"It's what everyone calls it. When someone shoots up on ADAM or EVE it's called splicing."

"EVE? Is that another drug?" Emmy gaped, suddenly feeling the prickling of uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

Upon first hearing of Rapture it sounded amazing. And of course it's a very beautiful city with amazing technology but…

Had she known of these so called drugs and this… _Civil war_? She would've definitely thought twice about leaving her home.

"EVE is a tamed version of ADAM, used for plasmids mainly. For example, ADAM is like the meat before you cook it, and EVE is the steak you get afterwards." Sullivan replied with a slight smirk, holding the girl's hand as she twirled in a circle.

"What are plasmids then?" Emmy asked, studying Sullivan's face as he chuckled.

"If I told you, you probably wouldn't believe me."

Emmy's brow furrowed upon the strange comment, figuring that if she could believe there was a city under the ocean filled with the greatest artists and scientists of this decade, she could believe whatever else Sullivan had to say.

"Well, alright." Sullivan nodded upon seeing the girl's expression, giving a slight smile. "Plasmids are… powers that you get from doing ADAM or EVE. The drug rewrites your genetic code and gives you abilities. Such as, Telekinesis, fire at your finger tips, the ability to obtain great strength… You get the idea."

Emmy could feel the shocked and skeptical expression on her face at such an outrageous idea… How could that be possible? And how is it that the people on the surface don't know about it?

"But… Sullivan, that's the kind of stuff in movies." Emmy attempted to play her shock off with a laugh and a shake of her head. "How is it possible that the news and US government haven't found out about such a thing?"

"Why do you think Ryan is so touchy about having contact with the surface?"

Emmy stared at Sullivan for a long time, stopping in her dance as the song ended, followed by some couples clearing the dance floor.

"I know it's a lot to take in Amelia but it's the truth. Plain and simple." Sullivan sighed, as if he too did not want to believe it. Emmy allowed him to lead her back to their previous table, her mind working a million miles an hour. "Every city has it's flaws."

Every city has it's flaws? Yes of course, but perhaps flaws such as… _plasmids_ are a bit too much!

Emmy sat down subconsciously, staring at nothing in particular as the three companions at her table fell back into discussion.

She would certainly be calling her parents despite Ryan's refusal, Emmy concluded. She had some topics to discuss.


	4. Happy Freakin' New Year

_December 31st, 1957_

Emmy stared at herself for a long time. Even after she had gotten completely ready.

Tonight, New Years, was Emmy's first performance in Rapture.

Yesterday Emmy had gone to the Kashmir Restaurant before opening and spoke with the owner, Brenda. She talked to her for a long time about the New Years party that was to take place today.

Emmy told Brenda that she was a singer and that she had been brought here by Andrew Ryan for her talent.

That certainly caught the attention of Brenda, who then proposed that Emmy give her a little show, as an audition of sorts.

And Emmy certainly did, singing a nice, simple Annette Hanshaw song.

Emmy had the kind of voice that could be powerful when she wanted it to, as long as she practiced beforehand.

Luckily Brenda said that Emmy could perform that night at the Kashmir for the famous New Years party that's been buzzing around Rapture.

Emmy was almost jumping out of her skin in excitement. In 30 minutes she'd be back on stage in a new city with a brand new audience… She had the ability to completely change her reputation. She could be a gospel singer for all anyone cared.

But the girl was also nervous… Nervous because Brenda told her that if she did good, she'd have a reoccurring, _paying_ job at the Kashmir, singing evenings on Thursday through Sunday. It would be from 5 PM, when the restaurant opened, to 11:30 PM, when it closed.

Of course, she wouldn't sing the entire time. Some times she'd get a break to let the jukebox take over, or perhaps another singer.

But this meant Emmy had a job… just _waiting_ for her to take it.

This was a huge opportunity for her. If she were to book this job she'd be guaranteed exposure to the richer types of Rapture. Which meant she'd get more offers from respectable clubs to sing at their place.

Emmy stared hard at herself as a slow, giddy smile spread over her ruby red lips.

She felt fresh and accomplished. She no longer needed her mother to book her shows. She didn't need her father to keep the boys away…

She was a grown woman, turning 20 in January, living in Rapture as a singer and—hopefully—actress.

She had made this living for herself—of course, with a _little_ help from Mr. Ryan… But Emmy took this as _her_ victory. Because she certainly needed one.

Emmy looked over her appearance quickly before taking her leave.

She chose a beautifully maroon gown. It wasn't so elaborate as it was exceptionally designed and well fitting. With her mother's old diamond bracelet, diamond earring's she had received from Mr. Ryan months ago, and hair meticulously done, Emmy felt ready.

Taking a deep breath and slipping her black fur coat over her shoulders, she walked out her apartment door with her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

She'd have to take the express to get to the restaurant, something that both excited the girl and scared her.

Rapture's Atlantic Express was fascinating, traveling in large train like trams that went through the water to different parts of the city.

Though the thought of traveling under such conditions was… slightly unnerving. Emmy found it exciting enough to do it.

As she entered the tram car she was accompanied by many other beautifully dressed, glamorous women and sharp looking men. They all seemed to be going to the Kashmir…

Emmy took another deep breath for good measure, wringing her fingers together as the car lurched forward.

* * *

"Happy freakin' New Year my favorite spastic friend!"

Leon grinned drunkenly at his companion as he downed another shot with a hearty gulp, welcoming Jerry to the bar as a rise of greetings sounded from the entire bar.

Leon, as he usually had during his time in Rapture, spent his New Years Eve with his stupid, drunk, spliced up friends at the Fighting McDonagh's.

With Marilyn Monroe's sweet, sultry voice ringing through his ears from the record player, rustic beer sliding down his throat, and plenty a single and easy woman sneaking around the place, Leon was _content_ to say the least.

1958 was going to be a good year…

"Jesus Leon! Where'd you get that shiner?"

Leon grinned that familiar shit-eating grin at his friend as he was clapped on the back by a near-by companion, igniting a laughter among the men who had already been told the story.

"One of you splicers knocked my ass out after I protected Georgia." Leon replied with a gulp of alcohol. "Fightin' over some hypo. But since I'm so God damn noble…"

Jerry laughed loudly, shaking his head as many other men joined in the merriment with clinks of their glasses and laughs almost as loud as Jerry's.

"Oh yeah, real noble Leon… Telling a girl to get off you before she finishes is real gentlemanly."

Leon just shook his head, grinning despite the laughter at his expense. "Yeah well, I'm a knight in shining armor. What can I say?"

Jerry snorted as he took a drink of his first beer—no doubt his first beer at McDonagh's, not of the night—and winked at a girl across the room.

"You remember that girl with Andrew Ryan the other day?"

Leon looked up in an interest he didn't understand, studying Jerry as he beckoned the prostitute over with a waggling finger.

"Yeah, what about her?"

Leon continued to watch his friend as he ignored the younger man, now concentrating on the woman who had sauntered her way over to Jerry. She was obviously on ADAM, her eyes bloodshot and dark around the eyelids. But she covered most of the facial mishaps with heavy make-up. "Hey sweetheart, what're your new year's resolutions?"

"Jerry." Leon snapped, causing his drunken friend to look over in irritation. "What about that girl?"

"Oh… sheesh, have some patience _Sir_ Leon. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of gentlemen?" Jerry smirked from his position leaning against the giggling girl's breasts. "She's a singer, or… actress. Whatever. She's playing at the Kashmir tonight for their fancy New Year's party. Thought I'd tell you since you're so hot for her."

"I am not..." Leon slurred in a sharp tone, causing some of his companions to smirk. "I just think she's easy on the eyes, that's all."

"Yeah, she kinda reminds me of… That Mary Murphy dame, from the Wild One, you know? A bit of Rita Hayworth too for sure… Real nice. Too bad Ryan bagged her." Jerry replied absent mindedly as he held the girl in his lap, patting his hand high up her thigh.

He was right, she did had a mix of facial features. She was beautiful that's for sure. And she had that bright, cheery attitude; like a performer. No wonder…

"Suppose so." Leon replied with a shrug, lighting a cigarette and slowly breathing the musky smoke into his lungs. "How do you know she's performing?"

"Heard some hype over it yesterday from some of the upper class. Two fellas talkin' about Ryan's new girl. I guessed it was her with my intuition." Jerry winked as he tapped a finger to his temple, causing a small smirk to break out on Leon's face. "Her name's Amelia Rousseau. Frenchy soundin' don't you think?"

"Is she from France?" Leon asked with a furrowed brow, thinking back on her plainly American accent the day at the docks.

"You writin' a book on her or something?" Jerry narrowed his eyes, a smirk gracing his lips as he eyed his younger friend. "Cool your jets sporto, she's just a girl. A nice piece of ass, but a lot of girl's are."

"Yeah, yeah… I'm just curious." Leon shrugged, downing the last of his beer and taking a long, deep breath from his cigarette. "Wonder if she's any good."

* * *

Emmy felt triumph wash over her upon the 4th successfully performed song of the night. She took a breath upon finishing the last note on the requested song _Easy Living_.

She knew the song of course, every note and every word by heart. She'd played the song over and over again on her record player back home when Billie had released it.

And now she was singing this famous song for some of the greatest geniuses and master-artists of the world.

It all felt so surreal…

Looking out at the smiling faces, clapping for her performance that they obviously enjoyed made that craving for attention rumble incessantly in her chest.

Especially when Sander Cohen was here, a man who could take her very far if he liked her. He certainly kept a poker face very well. Although he clapped along whenever she finished a song, he didn't display the slightest emotion.

When Mr. Ryan would whisper things to Mr. Cohen while looking at Emmy she knew they were speaking of her. She supposed it was a good sign that Cohen would nod and speak quietly to Andrew in reply, as if agreeing with what was said about her.

Of course, they could be critiquing her… and that was a bad sign.

But Emmy figured that even if Sander Cohen didn't appreciate her talent that she could work at the Kashmir and make a nice living. It was very well paying, and she'd be doing what she loved.

She could also do modeling for advertisements around Rapture. She knew that was an option, on account of seeing a sign up sheet for auditions for being the spoke model of… Some kind of plasmid.

Emmy didn't really want to represent ADAM, or anything to do with it. But she supposed if she was in a desperate situation; say down on money, she could do _one_ ad. One ad was okay…

It wouldn't be as if she was actually doing the drug.

Emmy stepped down from the stage to take her break, smiling and nodding in acceptance to the compliments she received upon her passing.

There was still that tingling feeling in the tips of her fingers and in the pit of her stomach as she approached the table that Mr. Ryan and Mr. Cohen sat at together.

Accompanied with Mr. Ryan was a beautiful woman named Diane McClintock. She was apparently Andrew's… girlfriend? Or mistress… Emmy wasn't quite sure.

But she was certainly glad she wouldn't have to be seen in that light from Ryan. Of course, she knew he was attracted to her. But he seemed to like this Diane woman very much.

She was a very sweet woman from what Emmy had seen of her. She was polite when meeting her, even wishing her good luck. She was young too, perhaps a few years older then Emmy.

"You're sensational Amelia! Truly." Diane exclaimed as she touched a kind hand to Emmy's arm, a bright smile on the blonde's face.

"Oh thank you… I really appreciate it." Emmy breathed, taking a seat next to Mr. Cohen—the only seat available.

"Yes, very much so Amelia." Mr. Ryan agreed in his usual serious, thoughtful tone, eyeing the girl in professionally masked interest. "Don't you think so Sander?"

Mr. Cohen nodded with a tight smile on his thin lips, nodding politely to Emmy as he took a sip of his champagne. "Very lovely. You have a powerful yet airy voice that captures my interest—in a sense... Do you have a singing coach?"

"Thank you Mr. Ryan, Mr. Cohen." Emmy smiled, smoothing her dress with a smile as she turned her eyes on Cohen. "I did have singing instruction through high school, but, I haven't had any since. I've mainly been playing on the old tricks I've been taught."

"Ah." Mr. Cohen nodded with a slight twist of his expression, as if a high school singing class was so mediocre…

Well, maybe compared to this man's caliber it was.

"Perhaps more lessons are in order? I could fine tune your voice to perfection Ms. Rousseau..."

"Mr. Cohen, it'd be my honor!" Emmy grinned, her delight causing a slight smile to break out on Sander Cohen's lips. Though it wasn't a smile of happiness, more like one of a more haughty nature at being so highly regarded.

"I'll have to see if I'll be able to arrange such a meeting, it would interfere with my busy schedule you know."

"Oh," Emmy blinked, smiling kindly at Mr. Cohen as she held her hands politely in her lap. "Mr. Cohen, if it interferes with any of your affairs I couldn't possibly allow you to teach me. Not until you're completely ready."

The man simply smiled at the girl, studying her for a moment in that strange, evaluating way of his as a buzz began to stir among the restaurant at the closing minutes until 12:00 AM.

The girl was certainly the raw material for a star. She had the aspects that made a female appealing, he supposed.

A nice face, body, bubbly sort of stupid personality, admittedly beautiful voice, good stage presence, and most importantly—that innocent, southern girl charm that men pined after.

Although she wasn't blonde—that style was in right now for sex symbols, with Marilyn as an example—she had darker features. She was wholesome and sweet as candy. All smiley and cheery.

Sander Cohen knew he was the best at what he did; he could make anyone into a star. It'd be easy to make her famous in Rapture. The question was if Sander had nothing else to truly amuse himself with.

It would definitely take singing lessons and adding a little spice to that sugar if nothing else. Tuning is easy, but it doesn't simply happen in one day.

Perhaps if she could show him in the audition next Friday that she could have a different persona then this little, sweet country dolt… maybe then he'd give her the fame only _he_ could provide.

"5…4…3…2…1!"

* * *

"HAPPY _FUCKIN'_ NEW YEAR!"

Leon had trouble seeing, walking, and talking from the mass consumption of alcohol that night, but as he attempted to make his way through the streets of Rapture with Jerry and a few other select companions, he allowed his floppy, drunken body to trudge along merrily.

It was a new year and Leon could feel it in his bones. He could feel his life changing without the knowledge of it's shifting.

Some might say it was the drunkenness that provided this illusion of great change in the young man, but there was something about the year 1958 that made him feel anxious.

As if something great was comin' towards Leon Calloway's direction.

Either that or something real nasty...

"Oh lookie here! Seems young Leon led us right to the Kashmir…"

Leon looked up with squinted, unfocused eyes as his companions laughed at him. He studied the big, bright sign in confusion with slow, alcohol-dull eyes. His blurring vision made it hard to read the sign, but he managed to figure out 'Kash'.

"Oh." Was all Leon could utter. How was he supposed to know where he was going? The last time he drank this much was… Well, last year he supposed.

"Leon! What's wrong with you boyo?" Jerry cackled in a high-pitched tone—the usual pitch his voice took on when extremely drunk. "You got lots of problems with the dames don't you?"

Leon was ignoring his friends as he peered into the restaurant through the open doors, leaning heavily against the doorway as discreetly as possible as he watched the girl on stage.

She certainly was a singer… She had a beautiful, powerful kind of voice. It sounded sweet too, like soothing syrup running through his sensitive ears.

Maybe Leon _was_ a little out of it, especially with being so interested in this girl. But she was his type—the type other then the blonde bomb-shell girls he usually went for.

There was something really… sweet about her. The way she smiled at the crowd after receiving applause, the way she spoke to the people who approached her.

He wondered if she were truly that sweet…

"Who said you spliceheads could come here?"

Leon felt a large hand push into his shoulder, making him stumble back away from the doorframe and back onto his ass.

"Oi! What gives man?" Jerry slurred upon watching a tough looking man in a nice suit stand in front of the entryway to the Kashmir, a critical look in his dark eyes.

"You chumps are in the wrong neighborhood. Go back to the Drop where you belong… The Kashmir is having a _private_ party." The man replied, his deep New York accent triggering the strange elusive tug of a memory in Leon's slowly chugging brain.

The man seemed to sense Leon's questioning stare, glaring down at the younger man.

"Don't make me give you a black eye to match the other kid."

"You look familiar… Have I seen you somewhere?" Leon narrowed his eyes, his voice thick and sloppy with the alcoholic buzz messing with his senses.

"I'm head of security in Rapture, and trust me Leon Calloway; I know _exactly_ who you are." The man replied, causing Leon's stomach to suddenly churn.

This was Ryan's dirty worker, Sullivan. He was the one conducting the investigation on the smuggling ring down in the fishery…

Leon had been questioned that day. Of course, he lied shit through his teeth. Even though he'd only helped smuggle 4 or 5 times—mostly for things like beef and bibles—he knew that the penalty was death or something worse... Guys kept disappearin' when they were caught smuggling in the act…

The boys at the fishery knew that they were either in Persephone or in Fontaine's grasp, either way you'd be dead soon if you weren't already…

"To be honest sport, this doesn't much help your case… I'd get outta here if I were you."

Leon narrowed his eyes at the larger man, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet and brushing the imaginary dust from his pants.

He knew his companions were already retreating, on the account that they too were on surveillance. It was mostly wise to stay away from Ryan's playground, even if you weren't necessarily playing in Fontaine's to begin with.

Being at the bottom of the food chain in Rapture _doesn't_ have its privileges…

Leon glanced at the man one more time, then looking behind him at the girl in the restaurant before shoving his hands into his pockets. He was drunk anyway, it was time to either get laid or pass out…

He'd think about his 'case' later…


	5. Sweet Like Candy

_January 7th, 1958_

With Emmy's first week in a new year in Rapture came the exciting feeling of change. She'd had it all week as she explored the giant city both by herself and with the occasional company of Diane McClintock.

Diane was very nice to be around, with her being close enough to Emmy's age that the two girls got along just fine.

Of course, Emmy could sense Diane's awkward nature at first upon being in the company of your lover's new 'friend'. The girl knew that Diane was very much in love with Andrew Ryan, so it was completely natural to be suspicious of some new girl.

But Emmy made sure to promptly explain that she in no way found Mr. Ryan attractive. At least, not in a romantic light. He was attractive in the sense that he was very intense and very… _strange_.

A person with such strong, outspoken views was naturally attractive to everyone. Emmy supposed that's why the man built such a thriving empire single-handedly.

Emmy did notice that Diane seemed to be complaining more and more about Andrew ignoring her… Or perhaps, as she put it, standing her up on dates and drifting off in thought during the dates they _did_ have.

Diane was a likable woman; Emmy just began to bore of all this complaining.

Personally Emmy's first instinct was to tell the older girl that Ryan wasn't worth her effort if he was so caught up in his own affairs. But love is blind, as Emmy's mother had once told her.

And _lord_ does Diane have it bad for Mr. Ryan…

But when Ms. McClintock wasn't boasting of Andrew Ryan or complaining of him she was quite interesting to be around.

She was a proper house-wife type of girl for the most part, but the brunette could tell that she had a naturally young heart of a girl her age.

Emmy had the same thing; the girl simply figured every woman does, no matter how uptight and stuffy they are on the outside.

The majority of their time together was spent scouring the finer boutiques of Rapture and exploring the parts of the city that were safe.

It was refreshing to be honest, to go to stores with all new clothes and new people to meet.

But what most fascinated Emmy was the city of Rapture on it's own…

Exploring Rapture was like watching a magnificent event unfold.

Every sight was art, from the construction of the city itself to the outside array of water-life outside its glass walls.

Emmy still found herself gaping like a moron at the fish that passed only inches from her—she sometimes felt as if she were in an exhibit for the fish to observe the humans.

The girl still wondered about leaks in this place… there had to be leaks somewhere at sometime. And that made her feel a tad claustrophobic.

But she supposed almost everyone in Rapture felt a bit stir crazy, with there being no sun to bask in and no breeze to breathe in.

Diane told her about an area called Arcadia where trees, grass, and flowers grow for people's enjoyment. There was even a waterfall apparently!

Arcadia was made by some botanists for the citizens of Rapture to be able to stroll through a park-like setting. Although Emmy figured it wasn't as fulfilling as the forest-life above the surface, she knew it was required in order for citizens to not go completely mad.

The only true downside of Arcadia being that now it was only open to paying costumers. Meaning, you have to _pay _to walk through a park built for the public.

Emmy thought such a thing was silly, especially with the apparent economical crises in some parts of the city.

Diane agreed with her of course, but she seemed to get quiet upon opposing against some of Mr. Ryan's decisions. Which Emmy noted with curiosity, but figured she'd find out more about that issue once her relationship with the girl had deepened…

Today was the day that Emmy was so nervously awaiting. The day of the first auditions for Sander Cohen's newest play.

It would've certainly helped to know more about the parts and the storyline, but she supposed Mr. Cohen wanted to keep it a surprise. Some directors liked it that way—for the dramatic effect.

So, after spending most of the day with Diane exploring Fort Frolic, Emmy finally entered the Fleet Hall.

It was a grand sort of performance room; one Emmy could see herself dancing across in beautiful gowns with handsome men and glamorous actresses.

She could envision the spotlight trained on her, catching the sparkle of her sequin dress as she belted out song after song…

"You auditioning?"

Emmy jumped at the voice suddenly at her side, turning to see a short but pretty girl, probably the same age as Emmy.

She had short black hair, in the style of the old flapper girls back in the 20's. She was dressed as such too, with a cocktail dress and various fancy necklaces that hung over her low neckline.

The girl certainly looked like a true actress to Emmy.

"Oh. Yes!" Emmy chuckled upon her slow reply, smiling at the less then amused girl.

The young woman eyed Emmy before motioning to a piece of paper to the wall on the far left, tossing the girl a pen as she brushed past her.

"You have to sign your name on the sign up sheet…" The black haired girl sighed, as if Emmy were so foolish to the ways of theater rules. "_Good luck_…"

Emmy figured she should mentally curse this girl down into the ground for being so haughty. Or at least shoot her a dirty glare.

But, perhaps with the idea of being on stage once again, she didn't. Instead she simply walked over to the sign up sheet, waiting until two young men signed their names and cleared the way until observing the paper.

She would be the 7th to audition, luckily. She was right after… Anthony Zidler.

Emmy squinted at the sheet as she tried to remember that name in order to be prepared for her audition.

_Anthony Zidler… Anthony Zidler… Anthon_-,

"Move it."

Emmy looked over her shoulder to see three people waiting behind her, the girl standing the closest to her scowling in an exhausted way. She was blonde, with a face that looked permanently exasperated.

She had strange blood-shot eyes, make her blue irises dull. The bags under her eyes were certainly not to be hidden, no matter how much make up she wore.

She looked… very strange. Her glassy eyes shooting Emmy one more glare before scribbling her shaky signature on the sign-up sheet.

Emmy sighed quietly to herself at the not-so-friendly welcome into Cohen's business. So far most of his performers seemed so rude and… they looked _off_.

All of them either had red, glazed over eyes or dark, pronounced circles around their sockets. Some even had oddly colored smiles, as if they hadn't brushed their teeth in a long time.

Sometimes there were those—like the blonde—with a combination of all three symptoms.

Emmy briefly wondered whether this was due to lack of sleep or usage of ADAM.

She knew in some cases it was because of the drug. She could see the track marks trailing along their arms.

It scared her in the slightest, being so up close with the people addicted to the kind of drug that deforms you mentally and obviously physically.

The price you pay for addiction she supposed…

Emmy took another glance at the sign-up sheet, as if to make sure her name was truly there, and took a deep breath.

For as much as she loved being on stage she always got that nervous, uneasy feeling in her gut. Sometimes she got so nervous it made her sick…

She felt jumpy from her frayed nerves as she walked down into the darkened theater, scanning the mostly empty room.

There weren't many actors there, only maybe 10 or so scattered amongst the seats. But Emmy was only really looking for Mr. Cohen, to ask him about what kind of monologue he was looking for.

She had memorized 5 monologues just in case she was presented with the sudden opportunity for an audition, like she had been with this play.

Emmy figured since Mr. Cohen hadn't given her a script or any information on anything about the play—besides it being a love story—that you had to audition with a monologue… At least, that's what she hoped.

The girl walked down the aisle, looking at each face in search of the familiar small, striking man.

It wasn't very hard to find him, sitting towards the front rows with two men sitting beside him to his left. He seemed not to even notice Emmy as she approached him; either that or he was trying very hard not to look at her…

"Ah… Mr. Cohen?"

The man looked up slowly upon his address, his hazel eyes scanning over the girl in pronounced disinterest before giving her a tight smile, leaning towards her with his chin resting in his palm.

"Yes Ms. Rousseau, what is it?"

For as hard as it was to ignore that chilly greeting, Emmy forced a smile on her face, trying to ignore the growing anxiety in her stomach with the uncomfortable feeling of being unwelcome.

She tried to convince herself that the man was simply tired from a long night; her eyes scanning over Mr. Cohen's… dark circles and red-blotched eyes…

"_Everyone got it; even rich folks like Cohen do it."_

Emmy began to feel a bit claustrophobic again…

She had been seeing so many people around Rapture that looked to be on ADAM. They all looked angry and exhausted. Sick mostly.

It was a terrifying realization that Emmy was in a strange new city, in the Atlantic Ocean, with it's citizens addicted to a drug that apparently decreases your sanity over time.

She didn't want to feel scared or nervous… she wanted to feel excited and naive again…

But she couldn't. Not with the truth looming over her like a shadow.

"I was just wondering… for my audition…" Emmy began, her voice cracking slightly from the nerves.

She slowly took a deep breath, pausing in her sentence as Mr. Cohen raised an eyebrow impatiently.

"What kind of monologue is required?" The girl finally managed with a decent smile, trying her hardest not to let this all get to her head.

Emmy was a naturally sensitive person… When people were mean to her she felt throat beginning to sore with weakness. She'd always been like that… she hated it.

Especially in this business, when critique is your life.

Critique can make you or break you. It certainly didn't help to break out crying at the first insult.

"_Oh_ yes… Your audition." The man nodded, squinting slightly as if lost in his thoughts. "Hm… Doesn't matter I suppose. Whatever you feel is right."

The girl felt the look of confusion on her face as she watched Mr. Cohen turn his eyes forward, as if completely ignoring her.

Doesn't matter? How can it not matter?

How is she supposed to know what kind of acting is needed for this play?

Is it a musical? A drama? A tragedy?

Was that truly how unprofessional Mr. Cohen was? Or was he simply so uninterested in her that he had no care whatsoever what she did for him?

Emmy wanted to cry… Lord did she want to just break down and cry… Part of her wanted to fly back home to South Carolina and be back with her parents—with people she knew…

But then, the other part of her, the stronger yet less-pronounced side of her, wanted to show Mr. Cohen how good she could be.

She wanted to impress this man very badly… He was a big name here in Rapture, and he could help her achieve her dreams…

She just had to show him that she really _was_ good. That she wasn't just some untalented, gold digger looking only for fame.

"Right, thank you, Mr. Cohen." The girl nodded, making the man's eyes narrow slightly as she walked back to her seat.

Still… Even now, just before an audition, she was still so… _boring_.

Yes she was _pretty_— at least enough to pass for decent… yes she had a nice voice. But Cohen liked his actresses dramatic, majestic… edgy.

Not some country bumpkin mistaking herself as the next big thing.

No… Sander had his particular tastes.

So as the auditions wore on he began to think about whether he actually wanted anything to do with this girl… Before he had thought that he could transform her into something great; something magnificent...

But upon seeing her almost begin to cry at the slightest disinterest… he knew that this girl could never amount to anything good enough for his time.

Oh of course, he'd play along for _Andrew_'s sake, since he was so interested in popping this girl's innocent cherry.

But after Andrew got bored, which he always did, Sander would no longer have to play with this girl any longer.

"Very nice Anthony… truly good." Sander mumbled, waving his hand dismissively. "Next is… hmm…"

Sander read the name 'Amelia Rousseau' with a sigh, rubbing his aching eyes with a stretch of his neck before calling out, "Amanda Harold, next."

Emmy froze mid-stand upon the mistake, watching the blonde, blue-eyed girl prance down the aisle. She gave Cohen a big smile before going up onto the stage.

Emmy would've heard the girl reading from the script that apparently _everyone_ but her received, but she was caught in a whirlwind of her thoughts.

_Maybe I'm really not good enough… Maybe this is Mr. Cohen trying to tell me that I shouldn't be a performer… maybe… _

Emmy could feel the tears brimming in her eyes as she watched the blonde girl from the sign-up sheet incident beaming through the spotlights upon Sander Cohen's praise, giving a theatric little bow before retreating from the stage.

Well… Perhaps he accidentally missed her name. Maybe she was up next?

"Next…" Sander gave a little tsk as he scanned the list before calling out, "Bianca Edwards?"

Emmy let out the breath she'd been holding in quietly, wiping the escaped tear from her cheek stubbornly as she watched yet another girl go up on stage, her skin a strange, sickly discoloration… like all the other…

What do they call it? Splicers…?

Emmy felt like _screaming_.

She had given up her entire life back home to come here for a career… She left her parents, her family, her friends… she left everything.

And now it was all shot to hell because the only true director in Rapture obviously _didn't like her_.

But despite the tears stinging her eyes and her jaw aching from keeping it so hardly clenched together, Emmy stayed in that theater for two hours.

Waiting… waiting… waiting for her name to be called. She waited until 4:45, when all the auditions were done, and Mr. Cohen was packing up his papers to leave.

Emmy wanted to confront him on his lack of professionalism. She wanted to yell at the stupid, small man until she lost her voice.

She wanted to stomp her foot like a child in a tantrum and _make_ the man give her a chance.

But Emmy knew she couldn't do that… it would ruin her reputation and make her look like a complete lunatic.

Society wasn't the same as you wished it would be… it just wasn't…

So the girl settled on walking down to the man once again, making sure all the tears had been cleaned away and a serious face was planted firmly.

"Mr. Cohen?"

The man turned around, having the same reaction as he had earlier.

But this time he didn't smile, he only looked at her in question as he turned to face her. "Auditions are over."

Emmy narrowed her eyes slightly, feeling her anger rise slightly at the unfairness of it all. "Yes, I know that Mr. Cohen. I'm just wondering why you didn't call my name at all… I signed up just like everyone else."

Emmy hated the kind tone she used. She wished she could get angry at the man and call him on his mistake. But she just wasn't that kind of girl.

"Listen Ms. Rousseau, it's nothing personal…" The man sighed, picking up his briefcase as the spotlights shut off loudly. "I just can't envision you as an actress… You're too… nice. Too _sweet_, like tacky candy."

"But! But Mr. Cohen, I didn't even get the chance to audition! I didn't even get a script; you didn't tell me anything about the play whatsoever…"

Mr. Cohen looked over his shoulder as he walked out of the Fleet Hall, Emmy hot on his trail as he began walking towards the stairs leading to his office.

"Yes, because in truth I don't want you in my play Ms. Rousseau. No offense, but you're not my type of girl."

Emmy gaped at the man as he began walking up the stairs, ignoring her as she leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

"I can act Mr. Cohen, if you'd just give me the chance…" Emmy sighed in desperation, her voice cracking as the tears finally spilled over.

The man looked over his shoulder, studying the girl's eyes as the big fat tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. The sight only irritated him, failing to provide any sympathy with the matter.

"The day you show your inner tigress is the day I'll take you seriously. Good day."

* * *

Leon watched with hard, narrowed eyes as a kid was dragged off in handcuffs, thrashing and crying out in protest.

He was barely 18 and Ryan was having him arrested for sending his _mother_ a _letter_ through smugglers.

"I didn't DO IT!" The young man shouted desperately at Sullivan as he allowed two large men to carry the kid off to Persephone.

"Evidence proves you did… sorry kid." Sullivan sighed, admittedly looking like he didn't much like the situation. But _he_ was allowing it… _he_ reported it to Ryan and _he_ got this kid taken away.

"Messed up shit right there…" Jerry mumbled in a quiet voice, watching the kid as he was dragged out of the docks.

Leon could still hear his crying from here...

Ever since New Years Sullivan and his goons have been hanging around the docks, eyein' Leon and his companions like hawks.

At first Leon ignored it, but after a week of being watched constantly… it started to get to you.

And what exactly were they lookin' for anyway?

Leon stopped smuggling in '57. He had no intention to start up again. The thought of being thrown in Persephone was bad enough…

Along with the dwelling thoughts of what _Fontaine_ would do if he found out you got caught smuggling… As someone around the fishery once said, whatever Ryan could do, Fontaine could do double…

Things were startin' to get bad around the docks anyway… That and the lower class of Rapture.

ADAM was startin' to really kick in with some folks. 'Specially with Jerry…

Leon noticed he was out of it most days, mumbling shit under his breath. Talking about _weird_ stuff, as if he were havin' a conversation with someone.

Jerry was starting to go crazy, like a lot of the other guys around here.

All they did was ADAM… ADAM, ADAM, _ADAM_.

_Constantly…_

Every break they got, they didn't even eat. They just shot up in a big group and talked about how fuckin' great it was.

Leon would just watch them. He could feel himself wincing at the sight. It was disturbing to be honest, watching someone injecting something into their blood stream with a big needle.

It made him wonder about Georgia whenever he saw his buddies shooting up. Despite his dislike for the girl, he couldn't help but admit that he was a bit curious about what happened to her.

He hadn't seen her since he'd saved her from those chumps trying to steal her crap. He hadn't even seen her around the Pearl anymore.

Sometimes he wondered whether she was dead… or maybe too spliced up on ADAM to think straight anymore.

Either way she probably wasn't doing too good…

Leon sighed, watching that Sullivan bastard looking around the docks carefully with his bulls at his sides.

The man wondered whether or not he would be interrogated again…

After New Years it had been weighing heavy on Leon's mind… whether or not he'd be put back under investigation for smuggling charges.

The mere thought of it made the man sigh, running his dirty hand through his black hair as he scratched his scalp.

"Not again… Not again…"

Leon looked over his shoulder upon the desperate whispering behind him, narrowing his eyes at Jerry hunched over a crate full of bloody fish.

Jerry's eyes were no longer bloodshot, but the whites of his eyes were now a sickly yellow color. There were large swells of… some kind of skin mass all over his face and body.

He was running his fingers through the blood of some of the half-conscious fish in some kind of spacey fascination, repeating "Not again…" Under his breath. Over and over…

Leon swallowed slightly as he made a face, hating to admit that his best friend in Rapture was freakin' him out.

But it was so strange… just a second ago he was normal, practically readin' Leon's mind about that poor kid being dragged away against his will.

Now he was fuckin' with gasping, dying fish as if it were amusing...

This ADAM shit makes people too God damn crazy. And once you're to Jerry's point, or even less, you're addicted. There's no turning back.

Leon cleared his throat finally, feeling uncomfortable with simply letting his friend babble creepily to himself.

Jerry looked up, his sagging, red skin looking especially painful as his eyes studied his younger friend.

"What?" The man snapped, his eyes narrowed as he shook the blood sharply from his hands. "Somethin' wrong?"

Leon winced, remembering that same expression on the man who had beaten the crap out of him last week.

That weird, paranoid look… coupled by a hint of insane self-consciousness that tilted the border on disturbing.

"Nothin' man… Just be careful; with Sullivan hangin' around here you can never look suspicious… you know?"

Jerry looked at Leon for a little bit longer, studying the dirty but unmarred face of a drug free man. _Free_ man...

Jerry couldn't understand why _he_ couldn't look like that… why people had to stare… why did they _stare_?

Now even Leon was staring. His friend, his brother… He stared at him like he was some disgusting piece of crap on the bottom of his shoe…

Maybe that's all Leon thought of Jerry… Maybe he hated him with all he had. He thought he was disgusting, frightening to look at…

Jerry blinked, his hands shaking at his sides, his heart beating far too fast for him to be able to breathe properly.

His mind raged on with shaking, erratic thoughts as the feeling of pins and needles spread over his arm where a trail of track marks lay.

It was getting to that point where he had to get another hit of ADAM… He could feel the side affects of leaving it for too long.

"Jerry… You okay?"

Leon studied his friend in confusion as he gritted his teeth and his eyes widened in a disturbing kind of way as he searched frantically through his pockets.

"Yeah… Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm great kid…" Jerry replied, his voice taking on that frightening undertone of a rough, demonic sounding distortion.

Leon knew that his friend was looking for a hypo… and for once he hoped he'd find it.

The look in Jerry's eyes moments ago when he was looking at Leon was enough to give the younger man the chills… He looked crazy to say the least, also looked like he was workin' up some kind of fever, because he was sweating and turning red.

The black haired man couldn't imagine what kind of thoughts were running through the mind of Jerry now… he wasn't sure he wanted to know really.

"Alright ladies!" The men of the fishery looked up upon Sullivan's voice, pausing in their work as the tense silence suddenly fell over the docks.

"I need to speak privately with… Tucker Flint."

Leon couldn't help but let out a silent sigh of relief, his dark eyes following the man that slowly walked along the docks towards Sullivan.

He was so obviously nervous that it made Leon uncomfortable to watch him being escorted off towards Sullivan's office…

It's been like this for a while… Sullivan coming out here and going down his list of workers to talk to.

Leon just hoped he wasn't on that list...

* * *

Emmy ran as fast as her black pumps would allow, ignoring the looks she received as she panted.

She had completely forgotten about her job at the Kashmir while at her audition for Mr. Cohen…

She was so stupid sometimes! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

She turned down one amazing opportunity for one that hadn't even been presented…

The girl rushed through the front doors of the Kashmir, searching the crowd quickly for Brenda.

Maybe if she just explained the situation… maybe Brenda would understand?

She had to, she had to…

It was that or Emmy was out of a job.

Emmy squinted at each table of people as she stood in the doorway of the restaurant, looking…

There!

Brenda was there alright, laughing and mooching over a table of business men who smiled up at her politely.

Emmy was about to walk over to the woman when suddenly… the sound she dreaded…

"My name is Juliet Hasco; I'll be your performer for tonight."

Emmy froze half way across the room, her heart dropping from her chest as she studied the Marilyn Monroe wannabe singing pleasantly into the microphone.

She was beautiful, with bright platinum blonde hair and big blue eyes that batted their long eyelashes at the crowd as she sang in that sweet voice of hers.

"You're late."

Emmy turned around just quick enough to see Brenda brushing past her and heading towards the kitchen in the back.

The brunette quickly hurried after the hostess, trying as hard as she could to think up the correct way to explain her situation…

The truth was Emmy hadn't thought things through. She was foolish in staying at the audition so long… Especially when she had known then that she wasn't going to get to audition.

It was the stupid optimist in her…

"Listen Brenda, I know I am and… I'm so sorry, I was at auditions for Sander Cohen's new play and I got held up. I just got out and-,"

"Listen doll, I gave you the chance to have this job cause you're pretty cute and you have a great set of pipes. But if you aren't going to take this seriously then I don't see why I shouldn't just give it to Juliet over there." Brenda replied as Emmy followed her back into the bustling kitchen. "She's real pretty you know… a lot of guys like that blonde type."

"I know… I know…" Emmy sighed, having heard enough today about what she didn't live up to in terms of looks and personality. "Just… please give me another chance. I'll be here early, I won't take breaks, and I'll sing however long you want me to. Just, _please_…"

Brenda looked at the girl from under her glasses as she leaned against a broad counter top.

The girl looked terrible; exhausted and miserable. Brenda could see how red her eyes were from crying. Her makeup was faded and her hair out of order.

She was a nice looking girl when all dolled up, Brenda had to admit. And she did attract a lot of customers with that voice of hers.

But when it comes down to it Brenda needs a show. A real show that can be on time and look good while doing it.

She didn't simply give out jobs to every girl that claimed to be a singer. She gave this gig to Amelia because she was Ryan's new interest. It was good for her business.

She knew the girl was honest… she was enough of a sweet girl to do whatever she was told. But…

"I dunno hun; I need to think about it."

Emmy bit her lip to keep it from trembling childishly, clenching her fists together as she leaned her hands against the counter beside her

The girl was too tired to fight anymore. Today hadn't been a good day… Not in the slightest.

Emmy figured that if she didn't get this job back that… maybe she could look for another.

And if she couldn't find another job then she'd just have to move back to New York with her parents.

In fact, she'd call her parents tonight.

That thought made Emmy both relieved and even more exhausted.

The truth was that Emmy hated to fail. She hated the feeling of disappointment and embarrassment.

She hated that she wasn't the kind of beauty that people were interested in, and she _hated_ that she was so nice.

So the thought of telling her parents that her first week in her new home was anything but successful was… well, she didn't look forward to it.

"Alright…" Emmy sighed, leaning away from the counter-top and straightening out her dress awkwardly. "Thank you for your time."

* * *

Emmy looked over her shoulder as she inserted the nickel into the phone slot.

She had to use a phone away from the upper class units. Apparently Mr. Ryan had disabled the ability to make calls to the surface recently. Which, of course, caused minor discord among Rapture.

But apparently, according to Diane, some of the phones near Pauper's Drop worked. Some of the lower class apparently fiddled with the phone lines and made it so they could have contact with the surface.

Emmy just hoped that Mr. Ryan didn't find out…

The girl sighed as she quickly pushed in her New York apartment's number, glancing behind her once more as she set her purse in front of her. Just in case someone with sticky fingers came along…

Emmy looked down at her shoes as the phone rang repeatedly, twirling the cord around her fingers as she chewed on the inside of her lip.

"Hello?"

Emmy almost cried at the sound of her mother's voice, taking a deep breath as she turned away from the people passing by the phones.

"Hello…?"

"Hi mama…"

"Emmy! Oh my goodness! It's so good to hear from you sweetheart!" The woman on the other line breathed, sounding to be nearly in tears as well. "When you didn't call right away your father and I thought something was wrong! Are you alright? How's Iceland?"

Emmy sighed, wondering whether or not she should tell her mother about 'Iceland's' flaws… She knew that if Mr. Ryan found out that she was calling her parents after he had specifically told her not to there'd be trouble for her.

Trouble she certainly didn't need…

Leon, at that moment, was rounding the corner to make his way towards the phone booths.

He was going to try to get a hold of Georgia, despite what scene that may cause…

After seeing Jerry's behavior today he knew that he had to at least _try_ to stop Georgia… or tell her about Jerry's case. Maybe it'd kick some sense into her…

And if it didn't? At least he tried.

Maybe then he could stop thinkin' about it. He didn't want to worry about her, because in truth he didn't much like her.

So as Leon pulled a nickel out of his pocket and approached the phone booth available, he prepared himself for a long, emotional talk with a very clingy girl.

"It's… wonderful mama, truly."

Leon looked to his left two booths down absentmindedly at the sound of the voice. He furrowed his brow upon sight of Amelia Rousseau, biting her lip as if trying not to cry and twirling the phone cord around her dainty fingers.

The man had never seen the girl up close before… She really was very beautiful. The kind of girl you'd _want_ your folks to meet.

Although, she looked sorta put out. Like she had been crying, or maybe like she was about to cry.

She looked to be almost biting her lip off from chewing it so much… maybe a nervous habit.

She smelled nice too. With each breath he could smell the sweet, soft perfume that masked the foul smell of dead fish on him.

He figured that maybe he could wait a bit, pretend like he was on the phone and listen to this girl's conversation.

Yeah, he was a creep. But he was interested in this girl. Something about her was real eye-catching…

That and the fact that Ryan's new girl was sneaking down to Pauper's Drop to use one of the hacked phones… Interesting situation if you asked Leon…

Emmy knew that lying to her mother would make no difference. Her mother could catch her lying before the words even left her mouth.

So the girl wasn't surprised when her mother gave a tsk of impatience.

"Emmy honey, tell me what's happened…"

Leon looked at the girl through the corner of his eye, pretending to dial a number by clumsily pushing at all of the buttons.

"It's nothing too bad…" The girl sighed into the phone. "It's just… A famous director and artist here just _doesn't_ like me… and today, when I came to audition for his play, he wouldn't even let me go up and audition! I signed up and everything Mama… He just skipped my name on purpose!"

Leon narrowed his eyes, the image of that pansy Sander Cohen coming into his mind as the girl's voice cracked with the effort to keep from crying.

Figures… Of course that chump would toy with a girl like Amelia. She was a sweet kind of girl, not the kind looking for trouble.

Poor kid… Leon guessed that she came to Rapture after Ryan told her how great it was for performers like her. Only to discover that he brought her here merely for his need for a new piece.

"No I didn't… you know I can't get mad at people like that mama…" The girl continued on in an exhausted voice, her big, caramel colored eyes wincing as they studied the phone booth in front of her. "But the thing is… I got this job at a real nice restaurant, singing on weekends. And I missed my first night because the auditions went on for two hours. Now I don't know if they'll give me my job back."

"Emmy you have to stand up for yourself... Lord knows you have the biggest heart around but honey, you won't get any work if all you do is let them walk over you."

Emmy knew her mother was right…

It was just so hard for her to get mad or to boss people around… she'd always been so compassionate to others, even if they were mean to her.

The girl hated that she was such a pushover, and she knew she truly was one… She'd always wished that she was bossy and opinionated. Like her mother.

"I know… I know…" Amelia sighed, scuffing her heel on the ground absently as she pushed her lips together, her eyes studying the decaying ceiling above her. "It's just hard… If I don't get this job then I won't have money to pay my rent! I don't know what to do…"

Leon itched to talk to the girl… He wanted to tell her that there were other places to sing besides the God damned Kashmir. All this girl knew was the upper class, and she truly believed that's all she had going for her.

But there was always the Limbo. Or… Maybe not.

This girl was pretty nicely dressed. Maybe she wasn't a Ryan supporter, but she appeared to be. It might be hard for her to get around down in The Drop…

"I'm sorry I haven't called… Mr. Ryan is a bit touchy on... Long distance phone bills from the apartment." She mumbled into the phone.

Leon raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested in what information this girl had about Ryan.

He wasn't sure what exactly he'd do with this information… but he figured it was good knowledge to have.

"He wants to talk to me?" The girl suddenly smiled. It was a small smile, but it made Leon's lips curve into a smile as well… something he hadn't done for a while. "Hi pop…Yeah… Yeah I'm fine."

Looks like this girl left her family behind to come to this shithole…

"No, no boys. I've only been here a week dad." The girl chuckled with a growing smile.

Leon's brow furrowed upon her words, glancing over at her discreetly as he pretended to mumble into the phone.

She's single? So… that means she's not with Ryan?

The young man then realized that the woman of his interest was standing only two phone booths down from where he was… and he smelled and probably looked like shit.

Why he figured switching from working on repairs in Rapture to working in the fishery was a good idea? He had no idea… But he regretted his job change now, especially with a pretty dame next to him.

"Turning 20 isn't as good as turning 21 pop." The girl grinned, the sadness leaving her face as she played with the cord absently. "Besides, it's still a bit to early to be wishing me happy birthday… But thank you dad. I appreciate it."

Leon wondered on how clever he was, listening in on this girl's conversation. He was finding out more about her then any rumor could tell.

And who knows? Maybe after learning more about her this insufferable interest in her would fade back to just being based on her looks. Leon could live with that.

"Right, I'll call more often. Yes, I'll tell Mr. Ryan you said hi… Okay… Okay… _Okay_ dad…" The girl giggled, shaking her head as she listened to the voice on the other line. "I love you too. Bye."

Emmy smiled as she pressed the red receiver back into the phone booth, feeling the calm contentment wash over her system.

Hearing her parents' voices was what she needed after today's events…

Sure, she didn't get anything but clarity out of it, but she supposed that was all one could need after a hard day.

The girl grabbed her purse and straightened her dress as she looked around her briefly, the sight of a man close by her causing her to eye him out of curiosity.

Upon looking at him Emmy felt a vague familiarity of the young man's features… She'd seen him somewhere before…

He was staring at her until she met his gaze, which then prompted him to turn back to the phone he was currently on, avoiding her gaze.

He was very attractive, despite the strong smell of fish and dirty clothes.

He looked sort of like Marlon Brando… But with darker more Italian features. Emmy figured him for the type that charms lots of girls, but rarely ever stays with one.

And perhaps the type that's hot tempered…

But maybe that was merely because he had that dangerous physique about him. The kind of physique her mother told her to stay away from.

She was about to turn around and leave when she noticed that this man was on the phone booth that didn't work… but he was still talking into it…

Emmy wondered if this man had been listening in on her conversation… perhaps he was, but what did that matter? She was simply talking to her parents.

"Sir?" Emmy smiled, causing the man's dark brown eyes to lift from the phone booth and settle on the girl.

"What?" He grunted, leaning coolly against the booth.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that the booth you're at doesn't work… The one just there works fine." The girl smiled, causing Leon to narrow his eyes.

So… she knew that he was faking it this whole time?

"Uh. Right. Thanks." He nodded in reply, the faint hint of a New York-type accent making Emmy tilt her head to the side.

But then figuring that she should get out of Pauper's Drop, considering it wasn't the safest of places, she simply nodded in reply to the young man before retreating calmly from the scene.


	6. Ignorance is Bliss

_January 8th, 1958_

Emmy stared out the window opposite of her, the tram car she sat in whirling through the water quickly. When she first took the Atlantic Express she had gotten sick.

She wasn't sure if it counted for sea sickness or car sickness. She supposed maybe a mixture of both.

She figured it was also frightening because of all the fish—and sometimes sharks—that swam around her. The people accompanying her in the tram car didn't seem affected by it, besides the children of course; they stuck their little noses up against the glass in wonder, laughing and pointing in delight at the sea-life that passed by the tram car.

But on that note… Emmy had been noticing something about the children in Rapture. She'd noticed it pretty early into her first week here but figured it was just her imagination.

But now, having been here for a while, she began to notice that there were no little girls in Rapture…

There were little boys and teenage girls, but no little ones.

She found it so strange that out of this giant city, out of all the families in Rapture, the ratio of young girls to boys was drastically uneven.

Emmy only counted 2 little girls her first day in Rapture, but upon seeing the families of those little girls around Rapture later on, they were no longer accompanied by their daughters.

Emmy wondered on that and planned to ask Mr. Ryan about it the next time she saw him. But lately he's been working none stop at his office in Hephaestus, the main power facility for Rapture.

She only knew this because of Diane's bemoaning of the subject.

In fact, Emmy was on her way to see Diane. They were both going to the Kashmir.

Luckily Brenda had called Emmy earlier today and gave her the job back. But only under the condition that she never again is late.

If Emmy ever missed a day without calling in deathly ill then she was to be fired.

Emmy thought that this was bet ter then nothing, considering that it literally _was_ this job or nothing.

The girl figured that she'd keep working this job until she got better known amongst Rapture's performing crowd. Then she'd try to get into a little modeling and spread her voice amongst the clubs in Rapture.

She didn't have to be famous, she just wanted to sing in all honesty…

"Do you mind?"

Emmy looked up upon the voice next to her, looking into the eyes of a nicely dressed black woman.

The girl then looked down at her purse resting in the seat beside her, putting the pieces together quickly enough to grab her purse out of the way.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." Emmy smiled at the woman, who in turn gave her a guarded smile.

The woman was beautiful in a wise sort of way, as if she had seen her fair share of troubles and grew from them.

Emmy's mother was like that… It was rare meeting a woman like this, so Emmy felt the need to talk to her.

She supposed to make herself feel less homesick.

"No problem sugar." The woman sighed as she lowered herself in the seat beside Emmy, straightening her dress upon her settling. "It's always hard to get a seat on this damned express."

Emmy felt herself smiling brightly upon the way of this woman's words. She sounded just like her mama.

"You look familiar…" Emmy smiled thoughtfully at the woman, who in turn raised a brow at the observation.

"Do I now?"

"Yes…" Emmy nodded, squinting slightly at the woman as she tilted her head to the side. "Is your name Grace Holloway?"

"Sure is, I reckon you saw my poster for the Limbo Room?" Ms. Holloway smiled, patting the girl's hand as Emmy nodded.

"My name's Amelia Rousseau. I'm a singer as well." The girl grinned before making a face. "Well… I'm trying to be."

"Trying?" Grace repeated with a snort. "Everyone here in Rapture is _trying_ to make a living. Only rich folks can, that's something you gotta learn."

"Hm, well, I'm not rich… I'm lucky to get by." Emmy chuckled, giving a shrug as Grace watched her. "I nearly lost my job."

"Where do you work honey?" Grace asked, turning to face the girl.

"I sing weekends at the Kashmir Restaurant."

Grace's brow rose as she let out a low whistle, shaking her head as she chuckled. "'Lucky to get by' doesn't sound right… The Kashmir is a very exclusive joint. The likes of me couldn't even get passed the door. How'd you get that job?"

"Luck I suppose." Emmy smiled, studying the woman. "Why don't you think you can get a job at the Kashmir? I might be able to help…"

"Heh. I don't really want to sing there sugar, no offense…"

Emmy blinked, not offended but more so curious. "Why's that?"

Grace looked over at the pretty thing, her dark eyes scanning over the look of naïve wonderment on her face.

"Well the Kashmir is home to Ryan supporters… I don't get on with them, but you don't seem so bad."

"Ryan supporters?" Emmy repeated, then remembering what Sullivan had said about Mr. Ryan and that Frank Fontaine fellow. "You support Frank Fontaine?"

Grace made a sour face, shaking her head at the girl in protest.

"No, no, no honey… I don't care much for neither Ryan nor that con Fontaine." The woman sighed. "I go by Sofia Lamb's word."

"Sofia Lamb?"

"Yes… She's Rapture's savior, lord knows it's true. She has compassion for the poor and unfortunate, unlike Mr. Ryan." Grace explained in a hushed voice, glancing around at the people on the tram car. "I don't suppose you know much about Andrew Ryan's ways do you?"

Emmy shook her head, folding her hands in her lap as she shrugged. "I'm not a supporter of anyone really. I only moved to Rapture a week ago."

"Ohh… I see." Grace chuckled quietly, patting Emmy's knee as she shook her head. "Ignorance is bliss child…"

"What do you mean?" Emmy eyed the woman curiously, her brow drawn together as the older woman looked over.

"You know about Sofia Lamb?"

Emmy shook her head, causing Grace to nod.

"Well Sofia Lamb was a psychiatrist in Rapture, givin' free sessions to both the rich up in 'pollo square and the poor down in The Drop." Grace began, her eyes seemingly far away in thought as she stared out the opposite window. "She cared so much for us in The Drop… She thought we deserved as much as the rich folks up in Ryan's court. But Ryan didn't like all the attention Lamb was gettin'.

"So Andrew Ryan decides to have political debates with Ms. Lamb, and of course Sofia agrees, bein' the fair type. But with these debates Ryan's ignorance was revealed and Ms. Sofia Lamb got more followers. We're called the Rapture Family, because we are united…

"But… Of course, Andrew didn't like having competition… He didn't like us down in The Drop getting compassion. _All he wanted_ was the artists and the scientists to rule as Gods of Rapture and for us simpler folk to just watch on in awe."

Emmy made a face at this news on Mr. Ryan. So far her time in Rapture has been hearing about it's flaws. And the conflicts of Mr. Ryan.

The girl certainly didn't doubt this story so far. She'd seen Mr. Ryan act in such a way. He simply didn't want anyone less then genius affecting his visionary. Which wasn't practical…

"Most people don't know this, so I'm glad I get to spread the word…" The woman began again, looking around once more before leaning in closer to Emmy. "Ryan then had Sofia thrown in Persephone, the jail here in Rapture, and all records of her existence erased."

Emmy's eyes widened, taken aback by something so… paranoid and outrageous.

"Is… Is that really true?" Emmy whispered, completely unaware of her approaching stop.

"Mhmm, sure is. Sofia's been in jail ever since. She's not the only one that's been locked away, anyone who questions Ryan's beliefs these days are being taken away…" Grace sighed, turning to study the girl briefly before smiling thoughtfully. "Say sugar, do you have a nice voice?"

Emmy smiled slightly at the older woman but couldn't stop thinking about what she'd been told.

It was hard to believe, even for as extreme Mr. Ryan was, that he'd put someone in jail simply because he felt threatened politically…

"Couldn't say." Emmy shook her head with a smile. "I suppose so."

"Well how about, whenever you get off your job, you come down to the Limbo Room. Do you know where that is child?"

"Ah, no, I'm afraid I don't." Emmy shook her head, watching as the woman beside her reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper that looked like some kind of poster.

"It's down in Pauper's Drop. There are a lot of bad rumors about The Drop but, it ain't so bad. I sing at the Limbo every night, you're welcome to come watch… and maybe, if you sing a few tunes for me, you can perform there too."

Emmy grinned widely as she took the flier from Grace's hands, the tram car lurching slowly to a stop as people began to exit the express.

"That'd be wonderful Ms. Holloway, truly!" Emmy breathed, causing Grace to chuckle. "Do you think I can come visit you on Monday? I'm not sure how long I'll be singing tonight…"

"Yeah sure, whenever is fine sugar. I'm at the Limbo sometimes until 2 in the damn morning…" The woman smiled, watching Emmy as she stood up, tucking the poster into her purse. "Call me Grace by the way…"

"Then you must call me Emmy." The girl smiled down at the older woman as she shook her hand politely. "It was a pleasure meeting you Grace."

* * *

This is stupid… this is a real God damn stupid idea…

Leon shoved his hands into his pockets stubbornly as he walked through Siren Alley, ignoring the girl's that reached out after him as he passed.

Lately girls don't even stay in the brothels, they just come out and stand on the streets and grab at men. It was desperate in Leon's eyes, tellin' him that fellas were most likely too interested in shootin' up then hanging out with the broads.

He figured since Georgia hadn't answered her phone that he'd come down to the Pearl to try and find her. If he couldn't, then it was out of his hands.

He had no idea why he was so freakin' caring all of the sudden. Why should he give a shit about someone who's caused him nothing but trouble?

It was simply human nature. He was a human. He had natural caring instincts.

Leon sighed as he entered the Pink Pearl, ignoring the coos from various girls he passed until he found Daniel Wales, sittin' in a chair with two topless dames in his lap.

Jesus…

"Eh, Wales, where's Georgia?"

Daniel looked up from nuzzling his face into one woman's chest; his eyes squinted in an unfocused way before he grinned widely.

"Well lookie there! It's Mr. Calloway himself… What can I do you for boyo?"

Leon narrowed his eyes as he felt a pair of female hands running smoothly over his chest, a girlish giggle in his ear as a pair of lips kissed their way along his neck.

That _wasn't_ Georgia… She was too afraid of him to do that.

"I need to talk to Georgia. Where is she?"

"Georgia? That lass is too far gone on ADAM to work here anymore kid. I fired her a while back." The man replied as one of the girls in his lap rested a lazy head on his shoulder. "Didn't she tell you?"

Leon sighed, ignoring the girl behind him as her hands traveled down his stomach slowly. "No, she didn't. Where is she now?"

"Ah, couldn't say. She just left without a word." Wales shrugged, watching as Leon nudged the hands currently brushing over his crotch away sharply. "Last I seen o' her she was over in Fontaine's Home for the Poor. Typical."

Leon glared at the ground darkly, knowing full well that Fontaine's 'Home for the Poor' was where the majority of splicers lived. Including Jerry.

The girl behind him—named… Cherry or Berry… Somethin' weird like that—kept trying to grope him, making Leon's impatience teeter dangerously on a thin line. Which alerted him to the fact that if he stayed here much longer, he'd simply lose his drive for charity.

"Thanks." Leon grumbled to Wales, wrenching out of the girl's grip before retreating from the Pearl.

"Aw come on Leon! I miss you _big_ boy!" One of the girls called after him, causing many of the dames to start to giggle as he glared over his shoulder.

He knew it was dangerous to go to the poorhouse… he knew it was…

But maybe he could help Georgia out. She was a nice enough girl, maybe if she stopped splicing and went to that Steinman doctor she could get all fixed up.

Then she'd meet a nice guy and live in peace.

He didn't know why he was so concerned for this girl. Maybe it was the God damned saint in him. Who knows?

All Leon knew was that he was going to the poorhouse.

* * *

"And you know that Andrew and I were supposed to have a date today? But you know what he did all night?"

Emmy looked up from watching her spoon stirring her tea, leaning her chin in her hand as she studied Diane in the opposite seat from her.

"What's that?"

"He was with that… _hussy_ Jasmine Jolene all damn night at Eve's Garden. Can you believe that?" Diane sighed, frowning as she chewed absently on her fingernail. "I know he's cheating on me. All the posters for her stripping show say '_Andrew Ryan's Favorite Gal!'_"

Emmy made a face, studying Diane as the blonde wiped under her eyes with a groan.

"I waited up all night for him to call in… But he never did." The girl grumbled, pursing her lips as Emmy took a sip of tea. "I don't know what's wrong with him… He used to be in love with me, _I _used to be his favorite girl. But now… now all he talks about is Fontaine this, Rapture that. It's enough to drive a girl insane Emmy, I swear!"

"Well, Diane, to be honest… I think you should see another man." Emmy mumbled, causing Diane to look up from her tea. "Andrew doesn't seem very committed, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with _you_. So why don't you find a man who deserves you?"

"Oh… I would Emmy, really I would." Diane sighed, running her finger along the rim of her tea cup. "But the truth is that I love Andrew, as stupid as I am for loving a man like him… I do…"

Emmy pressed her lips together as she studied her companion and giving a sigh before discreetly eyeing the clock.

She'd be back on stage in 2 minutes. Luckily Brenda allowed her breaks still, but instead of 20 minute breaks they were now 10 minutes, which were usually spent drinking hot tea for her voice and listening to Diane's troubles.

Emmy truly felt for Diane. She didn't really know how tough it was, considering she never had a real serious boyfriend. Only flings here and there. But she could imagine that being in love with someone who was slowly getting bored with you was… well, devastating.

Emmy supposed that all she could do was comfort her friend for now.

"Listen Diane I need to go back on, but I promise I'll be back on my next break, alright?" Emmy smiled at the woman in front of her, resting a comforting hand over Diane's.

Diane looked up from her tea, giving her a weak smile as she chuckled.

"I've never met someone sweet like you Emmy. Thank you…"

Emmy smiled at the blonde before standing and walking back up onto the stage with the band.

"What're we playin' next doll?" The band leader, Frankie, asked as he pushed himself up from his seat.

"Hmm… What about… Beyond The Sea? That's a nice one don't you think so Frankie?"

"Sure do Emmy." Frankie nodded, fixing Emmy a warm grin before turning to his band. "You heard her boys!"

Diane watched her friend from their table, her smooth, wind-chime voice soothing through the girl's ear drums as she smiled pleasantly.

Emmy sure did have talent… the kind of talent that's needed here in Rapture.

It's a shame about Mr. Cohen being so rude with her… Diane had no idea why the man was so intent on keeping Emmy from the theater.

The girl had a natural theatric air about her. She was sweet and kind, but she just gave off that vibe of a star.

That and Andrew seemed _real_ interested in Emmy… you'd think then that Sander would let Emmy perform in his theater.

Diane knew that Emmy wasn't interested in Andrew… at least, that's what Emmy told her. But Diane could tell that Andrew brought Emmy to Rapture for the same reason he brought her…

Who wouldn't be attracted to Emmy though? She was very beautiful and kind… Diane knew that she was nice to look at too but, how was she to compare with Emmy and… especially Jasmine Jolene…

Emmy was a true friend though… She wouldn't go against Diane right? She wouldn't do that even if she wanted to.

Diane truly believed that.

For as charming as Emmy was, she was most obviously a push-over. She didn't cause conflict ever, which was refreshing, but Diane wanted Emmy to stick up for herself.

When the owner of the Kashmir was speaking to Emmy she was so rude and bossy. Diane wanted Emmy to at least say something. But Emmy just nodded and smiled in that sweet-as-pie way of hers and thanked the hostess for the millionth time.

Diane wondered on that, but supposed that it was simply Emmy's nature…

* * *

Leon looked over his shoulder as he quickly walked up the first flight of stairs in the poorhouse, pulling his jacket around him more closely as he looked at each door number.

He'd been told by a resident of the house that Georgia lived in number 5 apartment with ten other people.

Supposedly these rooms had ten beds in each apartment, like a freakin' sardine can if you asked him.

Eventually Leon reached the door with a bold, brass number '5' on it. But… he hesitated for a moment.

He had ultimately before tried to get rid of Georgia once and for all. If he went and tried to help her with her addiction then she'd probably think of it as a move on her…

He didn't exactly want to have to tell her off again…

But knowing that she'd been kicked out of the Pearl for splicing too much… that was enough on his conscience.

So, Leon knocked loudly on the door before leaning on the wall opposite the apartment entrance, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stared at the ground.

It was a few moments before the door opened automatically from the opposite side, a very cracked-out looking fella staring at Leon with yellowed, red-rimmed eyes as he scratched his thigh.

"Yeah?"

"Does Georgia live here?"

"_Leon_?"

The dark haired man heard the sound of running bare feet along wooden floors, the man at the door stepping aside and walking back into the room as Georgia stood there.

Leon luckily forced himself not to wince when the girl came into sight, instead looking her over blankly.

She _ruined_ herself… or rather, _ADAM_ ruined her…

Her hair wasn't even done anymore, it was simply lying limp and straight at her shoulders, the rash on her arm had spread over all of her limbs, but it was even worse then before… instead there were large boil type things that scattered along her bare legs, and her face…

She used to be pretty… now her face was misshapen and swollen.

With her smile came the showing of darkened gums and yellowed teeth.

She must've been doubling up on doses… Otherwise she wouldn't be this far gone into the disfiguration… Leon had seen lots of cases with his friends… But this was the case of someone truly addicted to ADAM.

"Leon! What're you doing here?" The girl breathed with a wide smile as Leon studied her.

"I…" Leon hesitated, not sure if he should tell her the truth. Most likely Georgia was ten times more self-conscious then when she was actually attractive. If he had to turn her down again… what would _that_ do to her? "I actually came to see if you were alright."

"You did?" Georgia grinned, leaning against the doorway with a admiring look in her eye. "Why?"

Leon sighed, watching two men pass by him and Georgia to go into the room, both of them looking almost as bad as Georgia.

"Georgia… What're you _doing_ to yourself?"

The affect his words had on the girl was bewildering.

The tears immediately fell from her eyes, as if she had been on the verge of crying this entire time. She looked at Leon as if he had betrayed her in the harshest of ways, clasping her hand over her mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean Leon?" The girl exclaimed, causing some of the people in the room behind her to look over curiously. "You think I'm ugly huh? Is that what you think?"

"Georgia, you need to calm down alright? I didn't say any of that shit, but _obviously_ your overdosing on ADAM." Leon snapped, causing the girl to sob slightly. "Wales told me he kicked you out of the Pearl cause you were splicing too much. Last time I was with you… you were completely fine, except for that rash on your arm. It's only been a week and now…"

"And now _what_?"

"Well…" Leon began, but thought twice about it. He knew what fighting with this girl was like. She cried and cried until you _had_ to apologize just to make her _shut up_. "Listen… I came here to tell you that ADAM is not good stuff. These… affects that you're having, they're permanent Georgia. Jerry's like this too, except he's mumblin' crazy crap all the time… Talkin' to himself. The point is, you gotta stop splicin'…"

Georgia looked at Leon for a moment, taking a deep breath before nodding wearily, as if she had expected this.

She continued crying though, the tears doubling now. Only she was being quiet about it, which was unusual for someone so dramatic like her.

"I know Leon…" She finally sighed, holding her face in her hands as Leon watched her warily. "I know, I know, I know… Don't you think I look in the mirror? Don't you think I know how hideous I am?"

Leon kept quiet as the girl leaned against the wall next to the door, letting said door close so she could talk privately with Leon.

"I just… I can't stop splicin' Leon… I _can't_…" The girl croaked feebly, shaking her head as the tears began falling faster now. "My life… is _ruined_ because of this shit… but I can't stop takin' it."

"Why?" Leon asked, narrowing his eyes as he watched the girl slide down the wall to sit on the dirty floor.

"I go crazy if I don't take it every few hours or so…" The girl whispered, her eyes scanning over the ruined skin of her arms. "I'm addicted Leon… it feels _amazing_ at first but… I…"

"Georgia…" The man sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in impatience as he squeezed his eyelids together in attempt to get rid of his exhaustion. "Have you tried to stop?"

"Yes. Of course…" Georgia groaned, as if simply thinking about it made her miserable. "I try so hard… I really do. But in the end, I need it…"

Leon stared at the girl for a while, for as hard as it was, he did it.

He was now questioning his reason in coming here… was it really for closure? He certainly didn't feel any.

He felt uneasy with the knowledge that he was part of the reason this girl, who was so emotionally unstable to begin with, turned to a destructive drug in her time of need.

He had always been so harsh on her… he knew he had.

And now… Now she'd never again be pretty. It was only a matter of time until she began to lose her sanity. That is, if she hasn't already lost it.

There wasn't anything he could do. So why was he here? As punishment to himself? To constantly have the thought of a ruined girl on his mind?

Leon didn't believe he was a masochist, but what other explanation was there?

This girl ruined her life in a week and it was partly his fault for simply letting her do so.

In fact, Georgia wasn't the only one. There was Jerry and all the other's down at the docks…

Everyone in Rapture was slowly ruining themselves, and it took this girl to make Leon realize it.

"I have to go Georgia." Leon mumbled, quickly pushing off the wall and walking back down the stairs.

"Wait Leon no! Please just stay with me! I'll quit ADAM if you'll just stay with me!"

Leon winced at her words but didn't spare a look in her direction, stepping off the last stair and making his way towards the exit.

"DON'T IGNORE ME!"

Leon felt the strength of two hands on his back, pushing him forward as hard as she could.

Leon stumbled forward, catching his balance just before slamming face first into the ground.

The man looked back at Georgia, who held her hands to her head, gripping two handfuls of stringy hair and hyperventilating with wide eyes.

The ADAM was making her stronger… just like all the other splicers…

"I'm sorry Leon! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry… Please… I'm sorry!"

Leon turned away again, shaking his head as she kept repeating those words over and over, getting louder the farther he went.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" The girl groaned over and over as Leon spared her one last glance before retreating. "_I'm SORRY_!"


	7. Tragedy and Champagne

_January 17th, 1958_

Emmy began to feel a balance in her life in Rapture. Her pay for performing at the Kashmir had gone up with all the customers she had attracted, she had gotten closer with Diane, and she was beginning to get to know a lot of people in Rapture.

Namely those who attended the Kashmir on weekends, but those were very important people.

Business men like Augustus Sinclair began to attend every night that Emmy played.

Diane told Emmy that Mr. Sinclair was a very valuable friend to have, considering how cunning a business man he is… and how many businesses he owns.

But Emmy wasn't only interested in his business prowess. He was a charming man; one Emmy would love to be a friend of without the conflict of business and money at hand.

She hadn't talked to him… not yet. She wanted to play her cards right and get to know more about this man before actually meeting him.

But every night she made sure to look him straight in the eye and give him a big smile, causing him to smile in a satisfied sort of way and lift his glass to her in acknowledgment.

Emmy went to the Limbo Room on Monday as Grace had proposed.

It was unsettling in all honesty to enter Pauper's Drop at first. She had indeed heard horrible rumors about the splicers there. But upon entering the Limbo Room, a cool, smoky jazz joint home to people so _passionate_ about music and relaxation, she instantly felt at home.

She began performing with Grace on stage the next night, singing various songs that Emmy had always loved but never got to perform, on account of how little some people heard those songs.

It came down to popularity when performing for crowds. It was a safer bet to play well-liked songs.

But at the Limbo Emmy could sing whatever she liked in whatever style and these people loved it.

She began getting closer with Grace as well; staying hours after the closing of the Limbo just to listen to that woman talk…

Emmy had made a contradicting but nice balance of taking company with both the upper and lower class of Rapture.

She had begun to spread her existence among Rapture and that made the Kashmir's audience grow larger with each performance.

Even the Limbo room began to take on a larger audience. Of course, there at the Limbo Room Grace was the star, and Emmy was certainly happy to oblige with that.

Grace was a woman that Emmy followed around like a puppy, almost as a sort of tutor that Emmy learned from, about both music and life. She taught Emmy techniques in singing that she would never have even thought to consider before, and Emmy became a more confident performer as a result.

People began to notice Emmy's growing confidence as well, perhaps resulting in so many more listeners.

Sander Cohen was still indifferent to the girl though, never really saying anything but 'hello'. And his play—which was a musical, of _course_—was in motion.

Although, Emmy hadn't really seen Mr. Cohen very much. He only came to the Kashmir on the nights Mr. Ryan did, and that was rather rare as well.

Mr. Ryan was most likely doing various business things; the usual with men. Boring if you asked Emmy.

Unfortunately, this put a damper on Diane's mood. Which made Emmy worry for the girl…

She invested so much of her time into loving Andrew Ryan that she was beginning to become severely depressed as a result. Emmy could see the fading in her personality… Slowly of course, but it was there.

But for as much as Emmy cared for her friend, she _had_ to concentrate on her career. She'd still, of course, be there for Diane. There was just only so many times Emmy could tell Diane the same thing over and over…

So that day Emmy decided to spend her time with Grace before her set. It was Grace's night, her special night she told Emmy.

"You sure you aren't performin' tonight sugar?" Grace sighed as she pushed an earring through her lobe, watching the pretty little girl sitting behind her in the sofa, her long legs dangling over the edge casually.

"I don't wanna follow up after you." Emmy laughed softly, smiling at the woman. Grace chuckled in return as she spread ruby red lipstick over her broad lips, Emmy watching her contently as she curled and uncurled her toes absently. "Grace?"

"Hm?"

"I was wondering…" Emmy mused, folding her arms behind her head in a pillow as she tilted her head to the side. "Are you married?"

"Ah… No child, I'm not." The woman replied, making a pained face for the slightest of moments before smiling hollowly at her own reflection. "I only loved one man… But, he was taken away from me…"

Emmy sat up from her seat on the couch, her loose curls framing her face as she stared curiously at the woman. She seemed to be deep in thought as she slowly painted her nails the most glamorous of reds, humming under her breath smoothly with the music playing down in the Limbo.

The girl supposed it wasn't exactly her place to ask Grace what happened to her husband… But maybe Grace felt comfortable enough with Emmy now to share her past.

Emmy sighed and looked around the dressing room slowly as her friend continued to hum along with the static ridden record. The girl's honey colored eyes studied all the pictures on the walls of Grace and her companions of the Limbo, arms around each other with big grins on their faces.

The brunette smiled to herself as she tilted her head to the side, stepping forward to examine a picture more closely when she felt the crackling of paper beneath her feet. The girl stepped back, looking down curiously at the piece of paper beneath her bare toes.

"What's this?" Emmy leaned down to pick up the piece of paper as Grace looked over, her eyes squinting to see what the girl held in her hands.

The paper had lyrics written on them, most likely one of the songs Grace would perform tonight.

But…

"Rise Rapture Rise?" Emmy repeated with eyes narrowed in confusion, cocking her head to the side. "Grace, I thought you said-,"

"Give that to me!" Grace snapped harshly at the girl, yanking the paper from Emmy's hands and stuffing it into the garbage can beside her vanity. "Don't you know not to look through people's stuff?"

Emmy winced at the woman's tone, studying her angry expression in profile as the girl stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do or say.

She hadn't been looking through Grace's things; the paper was simply lying there on the ground. But, that didn't mean she was entitled to pick up the lyrics and read them…

"I'm sorry Grace… I didn't mean to…" Emmy mumbled quietly, swallowing slightly as she watched her friend bury her face in her hands. "But… Why do you have that song? I thought you hate-,"

"I do!" Grace exclaimed, making Emmy flinch from the sudden outburst of tears and anger. "I hate Andrew Ryan, Emmy, I do… But he took my James away from me… He took Ms. Lamb… and he took baby Eleanor… He… He took them all and I'm afraid he'll take me next!"

"Grace…" Emmy walked slowly over to the woman, leaning down on her knees beside her and hesitantly putting a hand on the crying woman's shoulder. "What do you mean he took them? Who are James and Eleanor?"

"Ohh _no_…" Grace groaned into her hands, shaking her head as she rocked back and forth. "Ryan took James from me… He took my only love because… because James spoke against Ryan's word… Just like Ms. Lamb…"

Emmy bit her lip with the soreness that settled in her throat upon seeing this strong, independent woman break down into absolute dismay.

And Mr. Ryan? He took this James man as well as Sofia Lamb, simply because they spoke against his opinion? Emmy… she couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it.

How could someone be so hypocritical and… _heartless_?

Would Mr. Ryan truly do this? Emmy didn't know… She'd seen his personality; so over the top in some ways… Perhaps it _was_ true.

"When?" Emmy asked, running her hand up and down Grace's back in attempt to soothe her shaking.

"Not more then a few weeks ago… Ryan took him Emmy, he killed my James…" Grace choked out as she turned her head to look at the girl beside her, the anger in her eyes making Emmy blink. "And now Eleanor, Sofia Lamb's daughter… I-… I was supposed to watch after Eleanor after Sofia was taken away but… Just a week ago baby girl was gone from my room. I've been lookin' and lookin' for her but… Emmy I can't find her anywhere and I just _know_ that Ryan… that miserable bastard did something to that poor baby…"

"Mr. Ryan did this…? How do you know?"

"_Because_ you naïve girl!" Grace exclaimed, her fists clenched in frustration as the tears rolled down her face, the desperate tone to her voice making Emmy swallow nervously. "Because Ryan is a corrupt, _evil_ man who will stop at nothing to stay in power… Lord _knows_ that man took my James, because he threatened me the week before he was taken… Sayin' that I best stop singin' my songs about him or else he'd _make _me stop..."

Emmy wished she was able to do something… she wanted to ask Mr. Ryan head on if he did all this. But Emmy knew that he would be vague in his answer, probably distracting her with another subject entirely.

Emmy wasn't one to side with neither Ryan, Fontaine, nor Lamb… but she certainly didn't agree with a lot of things those people stood by.

Why did it have to be so black and white? Why were people in Rapture so against one opinion that they always took it a step to far?

It was as if they believed that if you didn't push to the absolute limits that it didn't count for anything!

With ADAM as a prime example!

"So… Now you're singing pro-Ryan songs…?" Emmy asked quietly, staring at the woman next to her as she nodded wearily.

"I'm so afraid that Ryan will take me… I don't want him to put me in Persephone… I can't handle that!" Grace groaned in an exhausted, defeated tone. "I _have_ to protect myself Emmy…"

Emmy needed to help this woman. After all the kindness she'd shown her the girl felt like she needed to repay Grace…

"Grace, I'll talk to Andrew Ry-,"

"No! No child you can't! He'll take you away too!" Grace cried out, grabbing Emmy's arm desperately and clutching hard to it. "I know Ryan's soft on you but that doesn't matter to him… All that matters is shutting up the people who threaten his position, and if you objectify to his opinions, you'll be sure locked up faster then you'll realize it..."

Emmy stared into Grace's eyes for a while, her mouth open to say something in reply but… The girl somehow knew that Grace was right…

Mr. Ryan had the power to put anyone away… he'd obviously done so before, from what she's been hearing from all these people…

To think that she had trusted this man so fully, even admired him!

She even admired Rapture… for all it was and for all it wasn't. But upon seeing the true colors of this city, Emmy was frightened by it.

Rapture was incredibly unstable. It was dangerous to be here! With the rise of this so called civil war and… ADAM and power hungry dictators like Ryan and Fontaine…

"I won't say anything…" Emmy whispered, pulling away from Grace carefully and giving her a comforting kiss to her temple. "I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Good luck tonight…"

* * *

"Leon… _Calloway_, right? Nice to see you again."

Leon glared across the table at Sullivan, watching the smoke rise from the cigarette between his lips.

"Likewise." Leon grumbled, leaning back in his chair as the light above him shined way too fuckin' bright in his eyes.

Sullivan studied the young man before him: dirty white tank top, brown worn and tattered leather jacket, and shitty shoes.

Good lookin' kid, in shape and tall. Looked like an actor but had the demeanor of a tough guy. The typical snot nosed punk he was used to interrogating all God damn week…

"You know why you're in here?"

Leon figured that to get out of here easily he had to play along. Dumbasses that weren't smart about this kinda crap were thrown in the clink without parole.

"I'm under investigation for smuggling illegally." Leon replied simply. Sullivan eyed the kid with narrowed eyes, his brow rising expectantly. "_Sir_."

It figures that Leon would get a special God damn spot on that stupid list… with all this great fun he's been having with the rest of his life lately, he supposed it just fit right in…

"Good." Sullivan nodded, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing with his words as he sighed, looking through some papers on his desk and scanning them briefly. Leon waited silently, not bothering to look around the room on account of it being pitch black. Only the light that shone above the table he and Sullivan sat at made him able to see the man before him. "Says here that you weren't exactly _caught_ smuggling illegal items to Rapture, but you were among the group of those who _were_. Including… Tucker Flint, Bobby Simmons, Jerry Andre, and John Killian. Correct?"

"Yeah." Leon nodded, running his tongue along his back teeth absently as he watched Sullivan looking through the papers on his desk.

"And you know that punishment for smuggling is life imprisonment in Persephone or death?"

Leon took a deep breath, eyeing Sullivan's patient gaze as he bounced his knee silently up and down from nerves. "Yup."

Sullivan narrowed his eyes momentarily before clearing his throat, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"I would take this more seriously if I were you _sporto_… You're not just bein' called in here for the fun of it. This is legitimate shit and you're knee deep in it." Sullivan sighed, figuring that there were more important crimes then smuggling things like bibles down in Rapture, but what Ryan says goes he supposed… "Listen… I don't like this anymore then you do. You think I wanna be interrogatin' winners like you all day long? I have more important things to do."

Leon watched the man carefully, keeping his face straight as he knee began to shake faster. It was a habit of his when he had frayed nerves that wouldn't putt out.

The two men stared at each other for a few moments longer, studying each others expressions and posture in a sort of evaluating moment that had Leon's heart racing too fast and too hard.

He wasn't as scared necessarily as he was antsy.

He didn't like being in the dark. It was a sort of paranoia of his, ever since splicers came around.

You couldn't trust anyone and you couldn't trust any place, no matter how well you know it.

"Alright kid… You and I both know that you did a little smugglin' here and there. But in all honesty, who gives a shit?" Sullivan finally broke the silence, leaning forward against the table as he emphasized his words with hand gestures. "What I care about is Fontaine… and I _know_ you know where Fontaine is."

"What makes you think I know where that shuck is? I don't deal with him, sorry to _disappoint_ you."

Leon _didn't_ know where Fontaine was in all honesty. He'd met the fella a few times, but Leon didn't like his vibe. He was real bad news. A smart guy, but he dealt with the wrong people.

Besides, even if Leon _did_ know where Fontaine was, he would never say a word.

Leon didn't want to think about what Fontaine's goons would do to him if they found out he ratted their boss out. Leon wasn't usually scared of anything, but he didn't exactly _want_ to get the shit kicked out of him.

"Don't lie to me Calloway… You want this to be easy don't you?" Sullivan narrowed his eyes, stuffing his cigarette into the ash tray to the left of his hand.

"I'm not lying Sulli-… Sir. I don't do business with guys like Fontaine, it's too risky." Leon replied once again, an uneasy feeling suddenly creeping its way along his spine. "If I knew I'd have told you already."

Sullivan scowled at Leon for a good minute, admittedly getting Leon to feel a little less comfortable with each passing second.

By now Leon could tell there was someone else in the room. He just got that feeling… He knew what that person was for, and that didn't exactly help his jumping nerves.

Then Sullivan reached down to the briefcase leaning against the bottom of his chair, looking through it leisurely as Leon watched him carefully.

Then the older man pulled out one of them Accu-Vox things. Most of the scientists and cops used them to record their discoveries.

Leon couldn't help but swallow warily, clenching and unclenching his fingers absently as he tried to look through the darkness to see who was hiding.

"January 17th, 1958. Interrogation of Leon Calloway, age 26, under investigation of smuggling charges." Sullivan spoke calmly into the machine before looking up into the darkness behind Leon and giving a nod.

Leon was about to look behind him when he felt a crippling, sickeningly blunt kind of pain ripple in waves through-out his body, settling hotly in his skin as he cried out in shock.

Then, before the pain could leave his body, he felt something strong secure him to the chair he sat at, tying his arms to his sides effectively.

Leon had only ever been electrocuted once in his life, and that was when he pissed on an electric fence back in New York.

But this… this was on a different level of pain that made Leon dizzy.

It was a plasmid… it wasn't regular electricity…

"Leon Calloway, it has been reported by some that you are an ally of Frank Fontaine's… Is that true?"

Leon panted heavily as his skin felt like it was rippling over his jumping muscles, his head reeling from the pain as he shook his head frantically. "No! It's no-,"

The shock hit him again, eliciting a louder scream from before that had Leon's vocal chords straining from the pressure.

Sullivan watched the kid writhing from the electrobolt, lighting a fresh cigarette thoughtfully as the electricity stopped rippling along the body before him.

Leon was left heaving dry breaths from his raw throat, his joints feeling locked tight as he groaned roughly and loudly from the pain throbbing incessantly through his body.

"Mr. Calloway, you won't get very far being noble… You've been under investigation since 1956,"—Leon's screams of agony rose with the next crackle of electricity that shot from somewhere in the dark—"witnesses have testified against you. Either you tell us what you know or this will continue until you're fried."

"I… don't…-" Leon felt the shock shooting up his spine and igniting sharp twinges in the back of his skull as he strained out the next scream through clenched teeth. "KNOW!"

"Alright then… you must know someone _else_ who _does_…" Sullivan replied, seemingly unaffected by the young man's torture as he tapped the ashes from the butt of his cigarette.

Leon panted in strained heaves, the taste of sharp, metallic blood in his mouth as the electricity ceased momentarily.

He knew that Jerry was somewhat close to Fontaine but… he couldn't rat Jerry out. No matter how much Jerry had changed since Leon had first met him… There was that nag in him that told him to never rat out a friend.

A stupid, God damn nag.

"I… don't know… anyone… _Pleas_-,"

The pain hit him again like a speeding train, making him yank and shake against his bonds as he let out a silent scream of agony that had his heart pounding painfully fast.

"This doesn't stop until you tell us what we need to know kid… You might as well cut the bullshit, unless you'd prefer fire over electricity?"

When the next shock stopped Leon scrambled to speak. He had to get out of this position, a few more shocks and he knew he'd be dead.

He could _feel_ his body on the fritz.

"E-Even if I did know anything about F-F-Fontaine… I wouldn't be able t-t-to tell you… cause… Fontaine doesn't tell… even his closest friends… shit."

Sullivan's brow rose slightly, holding a hand up as a signal to refrain from shocking Leon as he squinted slightly in thought.

"What makes you say that?"

"Everybody… Around the docks… nobody says anything about Fontaine… how am I supposed to know where he is? _No one_ knows… Fontaine's smart, you should've figured that out…" Leon panted, the words strained and almost unintelligible from how shaky his voice was. "I'm… not interested in Fontaine… cause I don't do ADAM…"

A slow smirk spread over Sullivan's face, lifting his cigarette to his lips and taking a drag on the smoke before leaning forward.

"You're a real saint Mr. Calloway." The man mocked in that deep voice of his, stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray before nodding once again to the man in the dark.

Leon only recalled watching Sullivan shutting off the recording before something hit the back of his head hard and fast, knocking the vision from his gaze.

* * *

Emmy eyed Mr. Ryan from over the rim of her champagne glass, studying him as he spoke with Diane quietly.

In a surprise turn of events Mr. Ryan announced that he wanted to take Emmy, Diane, Augustus Sinclair, and a man named Randall Faber out to dinner.

Diane, of course, was delighted. As expected she was on Ryan's arm all night, cooing sweet things into his ear and laughing a little too loudly at his jokes. Which were dry, like his very self.

But Emmy felt the opportunity a nice one to be around Augustus Sinclair.

Upon meeting the man she instantly loved his way of talking. That snappy, hip slang accompanied by a thick Georgia accent had Emmy admiring the man like any foolish girl.

She supposed she'd most likely find out some horrible rumor or two on the man within the week, judging by the reputation for the higher ups in Rapture so far, namely Andrew Ryan.

But that was all natural she supposed. Business men were required to be a bit devious. That's how they got business.

And then there was this Randall man… who hadn't even showed up yet.

Emmy figured it rude of someone to show up so late—an hour and a half to be exact—to a dinner party at the Kashmir. But Mr. Ryan and Mr. Sinclair seemed to have some understanding notion of the man's tardiness.

Something about… business keeps a man out late…

Nonsense…

"I don't believe you're allowed to drink yet." Augustus smirked at Emmy as she sipped at her bubbly, her liquid caramel eyes glancing over at the man with a broad smile already on those ruby red lips.

"Says who?" The girl asked in a teasing tone, leaning closer to the man subconsciously.

"Says the drinkin' age doll." Mr. Sinclair chuckled, taking a healthy swig of his wine as he watched the bright girl throw her head back in a pleasant laugh that had him grinning.

"Mr. Ryan, what is the drinking age in Rapture?" Emmy smiled, causing Andrew's attention on Diane to briefly focus on the brunette.

"What drinking age?"

"See?" Emmy laughed in delight at the expense of Mr. Ryan's lack of paying attention to her question.

Augustus gave a loud chuckle, nearly choking on his wine with the girl's wonderfully adorable laugh.

Augustus was very interested in this Amelia girl's potential. Sure, he wasn't exactly Sander Cohen when it came to actin' and such… but he knew a beautiful face and a sparklin' personality when he saw one.

Amelia's was a face that could advertise with ease. She was real commercial like.

He'd heard about said face through Andrew Ryan, longtime business colleague and professional spotter of the pretty queens.

After deciding to attend one of her performances he was set on his plan with this girl… He liked her instantly… and the bright, admiring smiles he got every night he showed up didn't hurt one bit.

She had a classy chassis too, that was for damn sure…

"I'll be 20 on January 26th by the way." Emmy winked at Augustus, causing him to whistle lowly.

"You're pushin' it there kiddo."

Emmy gave a buzzed little giggle of delight, running her tongue absently over her lips to gather the excess champagne before leaning her elbow on the table and nestling her chin into her hand.

"I'm absolutely _insulted_ Mr. Sinclair." The girl purred merrily, a toothy grin spreading over her lips as Augustus shook his head.

"Ah, Mr. Faber, glad you could join us."

Emmy took her eyes away from Mr. Sinclair's to look over her shoulder, the mirth in her chest settling down momentarily as she watched a rather sharply dressed man stride over to the table and take a seat.

He was a suave sort of man, handsome in a not so obvious kind of way.

He had a nice chocolate brown hair color and interesting gray eyes, dark but prominent. Emmy had never seen a man with such eyes in her life.

He looked older then Emmy, maybe in his early thirties.

His strange but obvious sharp looks caught the eye of not only Emmy but Diane, both women giving the man a once over as he smiled in the smallest, most dignified of ways to Mr. Ryan.

"My apologies, I was held up at my office." Mr. Faber replied, looking around the table as he spoke before picking up his water glass. "I see the party is half-way through already."

"I'd say, Amelia here has drunk half of the booze already." Augustus chimed up with a grin, causing Emmy to dissolve back into her previous bubbly mood.

"I have _not_!" Emmy denied with a playful grin, feeling Mr. Faber's eyes on the side of her face.

She knew it wasn't the greatest impression to place on the man—that she was one of excessive drink.

In truth she'd only been drunk a handful of times in her life, and she'd handled herself quite well.

_She_ thought so at least…

"Mr. Faber, may I introduce my dear friend Diane McClintock," Andrew spoke up, causing this Randall fellow to reach his hand across the table to shake Diane's.

"Nice to meet you Ms. McClintock." The man smiled in that smooth, deep voice of his, making a shy smile spread over Diane's lips.

"It's a pleasure."

"And this is another dear friend, Amelia Rousseau."

Mr. Faber then turned his unusual eyes on Emmy, observing her quickly before smiling that same polite smile and extending his hand to hers.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Rousseau." The man's hand was warm and he had a firm shake, making Emmy smile pleasantly at the man.

"Likewise Mr. Faber." Emmy grinned, giving him a firm squeeze in return as he smiled.

He was such an unusual kind of handsome that Emmy wasn't sure if she should look at him or not.

It was mainly his presence that attracted all the attention, and those strange colored eyes.

But Emmy wasn't so much interested in this man as she was interested in Mr. Sinclair. Mr. Faber seemed sort of… standard business man. Despite his uniqueness.

So, as politely as possible, Emmy turned back to Augustus, planning to tease him flirtatiously on something or other.

"Well, I might as well tell you all now what I brought you here for."

Emmy turned her head in the direction of Mr. Ryan just as Augustus had turned back to face her.

Diane looked just as curious as Emmy felt, so the girl knew that she wasn't the only one left in the dark on the surprise.

"What is it darling?" Diane asked in the breathy, sweet voice she reserved strictly for when Mr. Ryan was around.

"As you all know, I'm associated very well with many of the scientists and developers in Rapture. And I'd like to show you our latest… project."

* * *

The sound of a distant song playing on a nearby Jukebox awoke Leon, his vision blurred heavily as his breath left him in slow even breaths.

The first moments of consciousness were numb and hazy, giving Leon the illusion of a drunken state.

But the moment his body shifted an inch he felt it…

The kind of soreness that's only achieved from the merciless kind of torture he'd endured…

The man groaned lowly, his entire body giving a shudder as he rolled over in some kind of wet, mushy stink.

Somehow he knew he was in the docks… he'd been thrown underneath the docks plenty of times to know when he was laying in unusable fish parts, mud, and algae.

Leon knew he couldn't stay long in this filth… He'd get sick.

But at the moment he couldn't move any further, his body was going through a series of rolling waves of sore pain that reached every muscle and joint in his body.

He didn't remember much… except Sullivan, a plasmid, and being shocked.

It hadn't occurred to him that he was still under investigation for smuggling… not with all this shit with Georgia and Jerry going on…

And now he was probably going to be on watch 24/7. With that interrogation, for as cool as he tried to play it, Leon knew that Sullivan thought there was something more to his story.

Cops weren't good listeners when they were intent on catching the bad guy…


	8. Big, Big Daddy

Emmy narrowed her eyes as she slowed to a stop alongside Mr. Sinclair, her amber irises settling on Mr. Ryan as he led them through the clean white halls of some science lab.

Or something of that kind…

The group had left the Kashmir Restaurant and immediately took the Rapture Metro—a more exclusive way of travel—all the way to a place named Point Prometheus.

Emmy had never heard of this part of Rapture, mainly on the account that it wasn't for the public.

Apparently Point Prometheus was home to Genetic research, as Mr. Ryan had put it.

In all truth, Emmy did _not _want to be here. Although she too believed in free will—allowing the people their right to what they wanted to do—she didn't exactly agree with the idea of plasmids and these so called gene tonics.

It was just so unnatural in the girl's eyes… changing what genetics you had with some biochemical…

The girl wasn't exactly a science major, but she did know enough to understand that ADAM wasn't good for you, no matter what advertisements boasted of…

"Failsafe Armored Escorts? What's that darling?" Diane asked as the group walked past a sign bearing the title.

"It's the very thing you're here to see." Mr. Ryan smiled, turning to his left as he guided Diane on his arm. "I'm sure Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Faber are already aware of what I'm to show you all, but they haven't seen the final subject."

"Subject?" Emmy repeated, envisioning a knight in shining armor as a more kind word for Armored Escorts… And what were these escorts for?

But most importantly, what _were_ they?

"You'll see." The man on Diane's arm replied, giving Emmy that strange, small smile of his as a pair of double doors opened in front of him.

Emmy began to feel… Nervous.

Being in a place where 'genetic research' took place was unsettling in its own right, but Emmy had figured out by now that Mr. Ryan and his colleagues had invented something new to go along with plasmids and gene tonics.

She wasn't sure what it was but… she just got the feeling that it wasn't safe…

"Do you know Mr. Sinclair?" Emmy murmured under her breath to the man beside her, leaning up towards him as the 5 of them walked through a lab with bustling men and women in long, white coats.

"I have a feeling sugar, but I can't ruin the surprise can I?" The man answered with that pleasant smile of his, giving the girl a wink as they entered a new room now, one with long, rectangular windows lining the walls.

They were the kind of windows that you couldn't see into, but the people on the other side could certainly see you… Emmy didn't like those windows…

They stood there for a moment; Emmy looking warily at her surroundings as Diane peered curiously through the windows from the safety of Mr. Ryan's arm.

"Would you send in the subject please?" Emmy heard Mr. Ryan hush to one of the men in a long, white lab coat.

The man—Emmy assumed he was some kind of scientist or an engineer perhaps—looked up briefly from the desk he leaned over before nodding obediently to Mr. Ryan.

The girl's honey brown eyes watched warily as the man pulled a mechanical switch, immediately inciting a large, bolted metal door to the far right of the opposite wall to slowly slide open.

Compressed steam hissed from the vents around the door, concealing whatever subject that was supposed to come out.

But something indeed _was _emerging from the door, its footsteps solid and loud, making the ground shake beneath their feet.

Some kind of strange, heavy material made the footsteps of this subject so brutish. She supposed that was the 'armor' in Failsafe Armored Escorts.

To Emmy's right she could sense Diane moving closer to Mr. Ryan out of the same kind of fear Emmy felt… It was unnerving for Emmy, but dreadfully interesting.

She was honored that she was being chosen to view the final subject of whatever new project Mr. Ryan was working on. Even though Emmy suspected it of being something very unnatural, as Plasmids and Gene tonics are…

Then, as the subject emerged into full view, standing only a few feet in front of the 5 observers, Emmy felt a sick kind of anxiety wash over her that had her gaping at the… thing in front of her.

There stood a _metal man_. In a diving suit type armor. Only, you couldn't see his face; the glass panel for his eyesight glowing a strange yellow color…

Emmy _assumed_ it was a man, from his body structure and the sound of his loud, filtered breathing.

This man had a very large, menacing looking drill for his right hand and a strange looking glove on his left. The glove was sparking and crackling with dormant lightning—Emmy assumed this was a plasmid…

"Wh-…?" Emmy felt herself breathe as the thing simply stood there, towering at a lumbering height of 6 plus feet… He was a brute, if it _was_ a he of course…

"Friends, allow me to introduce Subject Delta…" Mr. Ryan smiled, unhooking Diane's terrified claw of a grip from his arm and walking straight up to the giant.

The monster didn't move, it just stood there like some kind of obedient soldier… waiting for a command…

"What… is that…?" Diane whispered, moving closer to Emmy subconsciously.

"It is a Failsafe Armored Escort, although, it has many other names… Such as a protector… and-,"

"Big, Big Daddy…" Augustus chuckled warily, tucking his hands into his pockets as he cocked his head to the side in observation.

"Yes… Many of the engineers have affectionately named the Alpha series subjects 'Big Daddies'… nonsense of course." Mr. Ryan nodded with a guarded smile, patting a hand on the large, metal arm of the beast next to him. "Completely harmless my dear ladies, no need to be frightened."

Emmy was terrified of course, imagining that a robot or armored escort… whatever that _thing_ is, couldn't be trusted unless it was human and had real emotions…

But this… this machine_ truly_ looked emotionless. And it wasn't simply because she couldn't see its true face.

It was just standing there, not looking at anything, not making any move to acknowledge any of them.

"Mr. Ryan…" Emmy finally uttered, swallowing back the anxiety coating her tone before breathing out. "Is that a man in there…?"

"Yes of course." Andrew nodded, knocking on the breast plate of the armor, as if to prove it wasn't hollow. "Willing volunteers who wanted to further the technology of Rapture."

Mr. Sinclair chuckled at that, causing Emmy to look up at him on her left side. She wondered on that briefly, why exactly the man thought that was funny.

Emmy supposed that these willing volunteers were either not very willing or too stupid to realize what exactly they were volunteering for.

Either way it made Emmy sick to her stomach…

"Well, what do you think? Diane? Amelia?"

Emmy was far too concentrated on staring into the disturbing yellow glow of the face plate, her eyes squinted and her lips parted in a frozen gape that most likely displayed her wariness.

"Well… Darling…" Diane struggled, glancing at Emmy's shocked face as she studied the brute before her. "It's… Well it's amazing, as are all of your accomplishments but… what do these Big Daddies _do,_ exactly…?"

Emmy was glad that Diane was speaking for the two of them. She didn't think she could talk just yet.

Mr. Ryan's reassurance that this man—whoever was inside that large set of armor—was a willing volunteer was… well, very hard to believe.

She thought on her time with Grace earlier that evening, hearing of Mr. Ryan's dirty laundry throughout Rapture's slums. If all that was true, the kidnappings and false imprisonments, then there wasn't a very good possibility that this man volunteered to be made into a machine.

"Well Diane, thank you. These Protectors are made for… _Repairs_ around Rapture. If there is a leak that is outside of Rapture's walls, these protectors will fix them. Thus is why Subject Delta is equipped with this drill. Nothing to be frightened of."

Emmy wondered why one of the greatest men of science needed a human to operate a machine such as this… When Emmy thought that this thing needed to be human to be safe she didn't exactly mean that they should _actually_ put a man inside of a suit… And how exactly was he supposed to get out of such armor? It looked… bolted to him…

"But…" Emmy shook her head as she blinked, snapping out of her racing thoughts momentarily. "Isn't it dangerous if a human, with emotions and feelings, is operating a giant metal suit with weapons around Rapture? Couldn't he take advantage of the opportunity?"

Andrew turned his eyes on Emmy, narrowing his gaze for the slightest of seconds before giving her an actual smile, even if it was a very small one. "Good question Amelia…"

Emmy stared at Mr. Ryan for a moment as he looked over thoughtfully at the giant next to him, his hands tucked behind his back as he turned to face it.

"Subject Delta… Kneel please."

Emmy watched warily, holding onto Mr. Sinclair's arm absently as Subject Delta then lowered himself onto one knee in front of them, the ground shaking slightly from the action. The girl swallowed back the uneasy feeling crawling along her chest as Diane chuckled in delight.

"Now stand…"

The subject then stood once again, his movements causing a vibration through the hard floors and up Emmy's heels.

"Andrew dear that's amazing!"

"Well done…" Mr. Faber mused, observing the Subject with slightly raised eyebrows.

Emmy felt as if she were in some strange, disturbing dream…

These people were completely okay with the fact that a man had not only been put into a suit of armor that looked heavier then Rapture itself, but that he was then _brainwashed_ to do whatever he was commanded. It was _outrageous_… it _wasn't right_!

Emmy had a sick feeling in her stomach that told her there was something more to this 'Subject Delta'. Who was he? A father? A son? A husband?

Was he James, Grace's lost lover?

Emmy knew her compassion always got in the way of her judgment but this time she _knew_ that something wasn't right… She just knew it…

"Shake your left foot!" Diane giggled, completely forgetting her fear in her ignorant amusement.

The subject obediently shook his left foot, much to Diane and Mr. Sinclair's delight.

"Quite the fella, eh Ryan? I bet he cost a pretty penny." Augustus whistled lowly, causing Mr. Ryan to nod with a knowing smile.

"Yes Mr. Sinclair… Indeed he did. But we are in the process of creating a full line of Protectors, just like Subject Delta. It will be called the Alpha Series." Mr. Ryan explained, walking away from the machine-man and back over to a beaming Diane's side. "It will revolutionize Rapture… It's been my main objective these past weeks. I had been working with Yi Suchong, one of Rapture's finest… ah, but… his untimely demise proved most deterring."

Emmy looked over sharply in Mr. Ryan's direction, tearing her eyes away from Subject Delta to stare wide eyed at the man.

"Oh I heard about that in the paper…" Diane nodded with concern in her tone as Mr. Ryan began to escort her back out of the room, Mr. Faber following as well after one last observing glance at the beast. "What happened?"

"Mm, well. He was electrocuted in the construction of one of the suits… a freak accident, if you will." Mr Ryan's slowly fading voice replied. "I now work with a very brilliant man named Gil Alexander, he's helping move along the project nicely."

Emmy felt Mr. Sinclair tug on her arm accidentally as he walked away, thinking her to be following before glancing back at the girl.

His narrowed, thoughtful eyes studied the girl, who in turn was staring intently at the Big Daddy.

He'd heard about her sweet nature, but the fact that she was so concerned for some science project proved what Sander Cohen complained about—her heart was too big for business.

But Sinclair was smart, he'd use that asset to his advantage.

So he simply watched her for a moment, unhooking his arm from hers and taking a step back as Ms. McClintock, Ryan, and that Faber kid walked slowly and talked amongst themselves.

This girl, for however candy-coated she was, had pinup written _all_ over her.

Especially on that pert little behind and that perky chest of hers.

Those hips had something to say as well…

Emmy curled her fingers up into her palms nervously, her body protesting as she forced a foot towards the giant man before her.

It didn't flinch in the slightest, simply looking straight forward, arms at it's sides, breathing steadily.

The girl swallowed as pins and needles prickled up her neck from such close proximity to the drill at the Big Daddy's side, glancing down at the spiraled point before looking back up into the yellow glow.

She wanted to touch the chest plate… just to feel if it had a heart beat.

Maybe Mr. Ryan was just trying to scare her and Diane, for his own stupid amusement. Emmy hoped that there wasn't a real man trapped inside this suit… It wasn't humane…

Emmy slowly reached her hand towards the chest plate, her arm shaking from the jumping nerves in her body.

She knew that this was a hypnotized, emotionless thing…

At least, that's what it portrayed…

But who's to say that the previous man working on the production of these Big Daddies, Yi Suchong, wasn't murdered by one?

It seemed more likely then being electrocuted when you're a scientist great enough to work alongside Mr. Ryan…

"Amelia."

Emmy whipped around with a jump in her heart, wrenching her hand away from Subject Delta and looking with wide eyes at Mr. Sinclair. He was giving her an amused look, as if he thought she was the strange one out of the two standing before him.

"I'd like to talk business with you… If, of course, you're done playing with daddy…"

* * *

Leon stumbled harshly into the overly hot water of his shower, wincing at the burning of it hitting his skin and the steam constricting his breathing.

He felt sore in a sick, crippling kind of way. It was a miracle he'd made it to Pauper's Drop in one piece, much less alive…

It had been a few hours of drifting in and out of consciousness until he could crawl out from under the docks, then another 30 minutes until he could walk.

During that time his memory began to come back to him… gradually but surely.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not yet.

Maybe because he was back on God damned surveillance again, at the worst time too. In the long run he knew he'd land some trouble at one point in Rapture… he just fuckin' knew it.

So much for 1958 being grand and shit. It was the same as any other year in this stupid place—no, _worse_.

Leon yanked his soiled clothes off in frustration, throwing the mass of filth at the small waste basket by the door.

First his life goes to shit, then his friends start going damn nuts out of their minds, and now Georgia, the only real female comfort he had, was a splicer, not intent on turning back.

As if she could anyway… like she could ever afford Steinman's work.

He knew it was selfish of him to bring himself into Georgia's loss. It wasn't as if he was exactly begging for her attention. He didn't even like the broad much in the first place.

It was just… one of those things… Where you dislike someone but care for them at the same time.

He did like Georgia once. It was nothing more then attraction to her looks and her easy ways. And it never developed anymore then a relationship between a prostitute and a man should.

But it was in knowing that she loved him with all she had… that's what made him protect her.

He supposed that was the kind of stupid, considerate shit that got him into scrapes all the damn time.

He was considerate enough to import bibles into Rapture for the stupid religious folks who begged him to. He was considerate enough to stick around Jerry, even though he was a splicer. And he was God damn considerate enough to take the fall for that same bastard, getting him electrocuted to near death.

Leon sighed in exhaustion as he sat naked on the shower floor, not bothering to look down at the filth the rolled off him in thick globs and no doubt clogged his shower up.

The hot water was beginning to force the pain away, which was what he wanted. But the heat made him tired again, causing his lids to begin to weigh heavier over his deep brown eyes, blinking hard to stay awake.

He was exhausted not only from the strenuous effect the plasmid had on his body, but because he knew that his time as a free man was limited…

He'd gotten on the bad side of Sullivan and no doubt Andrew Ryan. He was seen as a Fontaine supporter. Hell, even Leon himself would've thought he was one if he was looking in from the outside.

What exactly was going to happen to him? He wasn't sure.

Most likely he'd be thrown in Persephone. Or hung. Either way, Leon felt it.

Like his internal clock was ticking towards its last minutes…

Leon stared at the opposite wall of his shitty shower, studying the grayed tiles and the white residue between them. He watched the water dripping down slowly in attempts to calm his nerves, but the stress of everything was crashing down on him…

Coupled with the fatigue of the day and the fear of tomorrow, Leon simply sat under the steaming hot water half the night until his skin was red and sore.

Only then did he shut off the water sluggishly, not bothering to turn off the lights or even dry off before collapsing in his messy bed.

* * *

Emmy stared dumbfounded at the man in front of her, eyeing his grand smile and the smoke that curled from it.

"You… like my smile Mr. Sinclair?"

The man nodded in a matter-of-fact sort of way, tapping the butt of his cigar on the ashtray in front of him before leaning forward against the table with his elbows.

"It's mighty enticin' doll. And I like that."

Emmy, of course, appreciated any compliment received. But if Mr. Sinclair had brought her halfway across Rapture, paid for their visit to Arcadia, and sat staring at her for a minute—just staring mind you, nothing else but—simply to tell her that he liked her smile… well… That's a bit odd.

"Well, thank you…" Emmy chuckled airily, making a face before smiling questioningly at the man. "But, not to be rude or anything… Is that what you brought me here to say…?"

The man laughed, seemingly to himself. He watched the girl as he did so, shaking his head slightly before sighing the mirth away.

"No sugar… I told you I had business to talk with you… And I'm going to do just that." Augustus replied, smiling at the girl as he tapped the ash from his cigar once more. "I know ol' Sander rejected you for not bein'… Edgy or dark enough… whatever exactly prompted the fella to do so."

Emmy made a face unseen to the man across from her, as he was leaning back in his chair and glancing around him at the trees as he spoke.

So… the audition fiasco had gotten around? She wondered who spread that story…

"Sander Cohen isn't as good a business man as I am… He doesn't see a star, he looks for a piece of clay that he can morph into one of his dreary, over-acted pups who get famous for having their head up their ass, just like him." The man sighed, waving his hands in gesture to his words, spreading the smoke in swirls through the air. Emmy fought back a smile, watching the man as he spoke. "But you see sugar… _I_ know a star when I see one. I know what men want, 'cause trust me, _I_ am a man with a finer taste; and you sweetheart are certainly a fine piece of woman, and you gotta voice like any sweet song bird out there… You got the kind of potential that stuck up squares like ol' Sander can't see…"

Emmy felt her heart jumping for the second time that night, a smile fighting desperately to work its way onto her lips while the girl tried as hard as she could to keep up her professional visage.

"Thank you Mr. Sinc-,"

"Augustus honey, you gotta get used to sayin' it anyway." The man corrected with a smile.

Emmy smiled in return, the happiness in her heart pouring into that smile as she chuckled breathily. "Thank you Augustus… But—and again, no offense intended—how exactly are you going to make _me_ a star? I wasn't aware you had performing connections…"

Augustus simply smirked thoughtfully at the girl, his cigar between his teeth as he gave a shrug and crossed one leg over the other casually.

"I don't kiddo… But I know business and I know advertisin'. I can spot a mile away that your smile and personality are meant for the dear cameras…"

Emmy raised an eyebrow with a curious look on her face, tilting her head to the side in the kind of innocence that made Augustus' smirk widen. "You mean modeling? I've only done pictures for local stores back in South Carolina… and anyway Mr. Cohen said-,"

"Ah, what'd he say?" Augustus grumbled with a shake of his head, making a note to thicken this girl's skin.

"Well…" Emmy sighed, running her hand subconsciously up and down her arm before shaking her head stubbornly. "It's stupid really… he just told me that I'm too sensitive or… _sweet_, as he put it, for performing. He told me that once I discover my inner tigress, that I should come audition for him…"

"Mm." The man nodded, extinguishing his dormant cigar in the ashtray on the patio table he sat at, giving a shrug before resting his intertwined hands over his lap. "He's right, sorry to say kid… By social standards you're a cute little thing that lights up a room… By business standards, you're a bit on the weak side doll."

Emmy managed not to wince but still felt the honesty settle bluntly in her chest, giving a curt nod as she watched the man.

"But that's what I'm gonna change honey." Augustus smiled, tapping his foot in the air absently as he studied the girl's expression. "I want you to work for me… After I buff you out a bit."

Emmy stared at the man for a good minute, thinking for a moment that maybe she had heard him wrong.

That maybe Augustus Sinclair, who owned a good portion of Rapture, hadn't just told her that he wants to hire her.

But then it hit her hard and sent her laughing in disbelief, beaming grandly at the wonderful man in front of her as she breathed in deeply.

"You want me to work for you? As a spokes model you mean?"

"Sure do." He nodded, seemingly amused by her breathlessness. "You'll be my pretty pinup. Sinclair's gal. Somethin' real catchy. Of course, before that happens I'll need to give you some lessons on sex appeal and all that jazz, but I'm sure you'll pick it up right fast kid."

"Sex appeal?" Emmy repeated. "Ah, I want this very badly Augustus I do… but… I won't do any… _nude_ pictures, will I?"

Augustus simply tilted his head back and laughed in that pleasant, soft way of his, giving her a grin that reassured her of his answer before he gave it to her.

"No sugar… I want to keep that nice innocence about you. Nothing sells better then a tease, and you certainly are one."

Emmy wasn't sure whether to be offended by that comment or not, but she decided not to be one way or the other.

Augustus Sinclair! _The_ Augustus Sinclair, business titan and all around master charmer, picked her—simple, small time Emmy Rousseau—to be his spokes-girl. It was all so surreal Emmy could hardly find the air to breathe.

"Well… ain't that just delicate…?" The girl breathed, followed by an excited little giggle that had Augustus chuckling. "Trust me Augustus, I won't take this for granted. I'll do as many shoots as you need and whatever else! I can even write jingles for your advertisements! Just tell me when I need my first… ah, _lesson_."

Augustus studied the girl for a moment before smiling once more, then standing and helping her politely out of her chair before looping his arm in hers.

"How about you come by my office tomorrow at… say 10 o'clock? Just take the express to the Persephone Detention Facility. My office is there, just tell the guards your name, alright honey?"

Emmy stared at Mr. Sinclair for a moment, the jail Persephone definitely ringing some bells in her memory.

Seems that Augustus owns Persephone… That might just mean that he has some much needed information that Grace would love to hear about.

It seemed with one opportunity came another, and that made Emmy smile grandly at the man.

"I'll be there."


	9. Scandalizing the Innocent

_January 18th, 1958_

Emmy was, all in all, quite curious about Persephone.

She figured that this so called utopia of Rapture shouldn't really need a detention facility. Wasn't it supposed to be perfect?

The girl made a face on that thought as she waited patiently next to an administration desk.

Perfect wasn't the word she'd use for Rapture. Certainly not.

Of course, the girl would be lying straight through her teeth if she said she didn't love Rapture as her own. It was beautiful and magnificently breathtaking, in both structure and technology.

And Emmy stood loosely by its beliefs. Very loosely, but enough to be able to tolerate it.

But it seemed to the girl that those beliefs were fading where conflict and money hungry dictators were taking over.

Take, for example, all the men and women who were being thrown in Persephone. And on the most ridiculous of counts.

Emmy sometimes wondered if she was being too harsh on Rapture. Perhaps everyone was.

After all, every city certainly has its historical moments and it's tragic ones. Maybe Rapture was simply going through not only an economic depression—a fact she learned from Diane not too long ago—but a social one as well.

She believed that some people had the natural need to follow someone's orders. Like a sheep complex perhaps.

And then there were those that loved to lead. Maybe even perhaps abusing their power.

But then, upon thinking these thoughts, Emmy remembered Subject Delta, Grace's story, and this ADAM… That's when she realized that Rapture wasn't a new city, it was a new world.

A corrupt world, that's for sure.

"Amelia Rousseau?"

Emmy looked up from the ground and stood up straight from leaning against the wall, meeting eyes with a man dressed in what looked like a prison guard's uniform.

The girl had entered Persephone 15 minutes ago, where she was then told to wait patiently at 'checkpoint A' while the man recorded the file of all the new incoming prisoners—where she was also denied the ability to visit Sofia Lamb, on the account that 'she is a criminal, no longer a therapist'. Emmy would leave it at that for now, she was here for business first and foremost.

She felt uncomfortable standing there; watching man after man—and the rare woman—stand behind the yellow line just before the desk. They answered various questions about themselves and about the crimes they committed.

Some were rightful criminals and vandals, but others… Others were innocent, whether or not they committed their 'crime' or not.

One boy, probably only eighteen, was one of the first ones to stand there. He was terrified, that was plain to see.

He glanced around at all the men around him nervously; wringing his fingers together as the guard harshly asked him for his information.

Emmy, although probably not supposed to be listening, overheard that the boy's crime was sending 'contraband' to the surface. That contraband being a letter to his mother.

Emmy knew it was possible that this boy's story was twisted to make him seem like the victim. It was a possibility. But…

With hearing all of the stories about Mr. Ryan's true nature, she believed his story full-heartedly.

The girl nodded politely to the guard, smiling at him pleasantly as she carefully walked as far away from the prisoners as she could without seeming rude—innocent or not, they were still being arrested. Emmy couldn't afford any trouble messing with her meeting.

"Mr. Sinclair is ready to meet with you. Follow me."

Emmy nodded, glancing back once more at the young man curiously. He was crying in that silent, secretive way men do. As if he were trying as hard as he could not to show the men around him that he was displaying his inner feelings.

The girl frowned, quickly turning away from the image and following obediently behind the jail guard.

* * *

Leon breathed in sharply, his eyes cracking open from the deep slumber that left his entire body feeling like dead weight.

The pounding on his door didn't much help the instant irritation that dawned on the young man, his scratchy eyes narrowing at his apartment door—as if trying to hint through the wood to the visitor that he wasn't interested.

"Yo Leon! Open up!"

Jerry…?

Leon blinked hard and took a deep breath as he turned over weakly, staring at the clock on the opposite wall. 7 AM.

Only Jerry would come all the way across Rapture to his God damn apartment just to bother him…

The young man sincerely didn't feel like getting up. It didn't seem as if he was physically able to anyway.

So he just grunted loud enough for his friend to hear from outside his door before turning over onto his side and pulling the covers weakly over himself.

"You have a chick in there or something? Open the God damn door!" His friend laughed, the sound of a heavier thud on the door causing Leon to wince.

"Go back to your fuckin poor house!" Leon croaked pathetically, his voice barely loud enough for the man on the other side of the door to hear.

There was a moment of silence, making Leon wonder if he'd actually offended his friend.

"What's up with your voice? Sounds funny." Jerry called, making Leon peak his head out from under the covers to stare at the door.

Leon figured that yes, his voice did sound funny… Especially after the screams he'd belted out the night before, they had put a serious strain on his voice. It _was_ torture after all.

"…Spare's under the mat."

It wasn't another minute before Jerry opened the door to the apartment, tossing the spare key on the table beside the door before looking around the place.

It smelled like some foul, shit covered thing had crawled out from under the docks of the fishery and come to die in Leon's apartment. The stench caused Jerry to cough, even for a man who'd probably smelled like his own piss for half his life, it was a smell he didn't want to breathe in for much longer.

"What the hell did you do to make this shithole smell like… well, a shithole?"

Jerry expected to see Leon in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he drank coffee with the usual cocky glare on his face. But he wasn't there, or in the living room.

"Eh Leo? Where are you?"

Jerry walked back through the small hall to his left and into his friend's bedroom, covering his nose with the sleeve of his worker uniform as he shook his head on sight of the mess.

There lay Leon, sprawled out in his misshapen, dirty sheets. They looked to be wet, as if he went to bed soaking wet.

His bed, although not exactly the neatest of places in the first place, was filthy now with what looked like mud and what smelled like dead fish.

Leon himself looked like shit, the black eye he'd received sometime ago gone mostly, but still a light maroon-ish hue. But now the kid looked pale and… floppy. As if he'd been dead all night until Jerry's presence miraculously revived him.

He even had dried blood caked under his nose and at the corners of his mouth.

"Did you get the crap kicked out of you _again_?" Jerry laughed loudly, causing Leon to lift his head from the pillows and glare in exhaustion at the man.

"What the _hell_ do you want?"

"I wanna know where you've been. You're late to work you know…" Jerry snorted upon his friend's stupidity, taking a not-so-careful seat on the bed, which jostled Leon unpleasantly.

"I'm not coming in today…" A groan came from somewhere in the pillows, followed by a weak attempt to retreat back under the covers.

"No shit you aren't! Looks like you got your ass kicked all the way to next year." Jerry grinned, yanking the covers completely off Leon and throwing them to the corner of the room, leaving him only with a flimsy sheet. "What happened?"

Leon narrowed his eyes up at the man, noticing little details about him that weren't there before. As a result of splicing of course…

Then the young man sighed, the effort of pushing himself up into a sitting position against the back of his headboard making him pant.

"Ran into Sullivan…"

Jerry's obvious amusement instantly faded into a look of irritated confusion, making a face as Leon shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean? That prick and his goons beat the crap out of you?"

Leon sighed without answering, glancing over at the cigarette pack on his bedside table and grabbing the last one. "I'm back under interrogation as of last night. So are you, so I'd be careful if I was you."

Jerry's eyes widened in the slightest as he stared at the wall behind Leon's bed, his companion searching through the bed side table drawer for a lighter.

The older man smiled at his friend upon his pointed look, obviously needing a light.

Jerry then reached a hand up and snapped his thumb and middle finger together—for the effect. Immediately a small flame, about the size that would come from a match, sparked between the pad of his middle finger.

Leon stared at him for a good minute, his dark eyes narrowed accusingly in such a disapproving way that Jerry almost put his fire away.

"It's that new plasmid. Incinerate." Jerry replied to his friend's expression with a shrug, waiting for him to light his cigarette. "Cost me a shitload, but hey, I can make fire."

The younger man took another moment to glare at his companion before giving in. He leaned forward, igniting the end of his cigarette in the fire at Jerry's fingertips before leaning away with a sigh.

"So… they interrogated you?"

"Yup." Leon nodded, his words muffled by the cigarette between his lips. "Got zapped by your precious plasmids…"

Jerry made a face, looking down at his hands briefly as he listened to Leon breathing in the smoke beside him.

"What'd Sullivan wanna know? Somethin' about the smugglin' ring?"

"Nah. That's old news." Leon shook his head dismissively. "They're only interested in Fontaine. They thought I knew where he was. Or somethin' stupid like that… Interrogation went on for a while; then, luckily, they let me go."

Jerry watched his friend as he stared at the opposite wall, the cigarette smoke slowly curling from his mouth as he shifted slightly.

"Course, they threw me under the docks to die. But I count it as a kindness."

The older friend laughed at the sarcasm before giving a long, thoughtful sigh.

"They're after me now huh?"

Leon shrugged, twirling the cigarette between his thumb and index finger absently as he leaned his head back against the wall behind the bed. "I guess. You were on their list of suspects."

"Well… Shit." Jerry mumbled, scratching his sore temple as Leon yawned. "You okay? You look like death."

"Yeah… yeah. I'm good. _Great_ in fact." Leon snapped, wincing as he tried to stretch his arm. "What about you? Have you been doin' more ADAM?"

"Ah… yeah." Jerry sighed, standing up from the bed and straightening out his uniform. "Don't see the point in stoppin' now… You know?"

Leon watched Jerry, letting his cigarette smoke in the air wastefully as his friend then made his way out of the bedroom.

"Listen Leo," The man called from the front door, the sound of the door knob turning and the creak of it opening. "I gotta split. But you should go to Fontaine's clinic; I saw it was open while on my way over here. Get yourself checked out."

Leon didn't reply, he simply waited until he heard the front door close. He then sighed, figuring that he should try to get up and stretch his sore muscles before they cramp.

But he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Although Jerry's visit was needed for his friend's safety, it was also the confirmation Leon dreaded that he was, indeed, doubling up on splicing.

Everyone was it seemed… With the growing tension came the larger uses of ADAM.

And the feeling of something terrible was still plaguing Leon, making him wonder how much longer he had in Rapture. But more so how much time he had alive…

* * *

Despite the unsettling feeling of being watched, Emmy found the walk to Mr. Sinclair's office an uneventful one.

They hadn't gone through any of the holding areas, just through the long winding of glass tunnels.

When arriving at the man's office, Emmy felt… Well, she didn't know how she felt.

She felt excited but dreadfully wary. The truth was that she didn't know this man all that well. She learned from her experience with Mr. Ryan that not all men sharply dressed were dignified.

Although this _was_ a golden opportunity for the girl, she made a promise to herself that if she didn't feel comfortable, she wouldn't make the deal.

That, of course, was what cost her jobs. But it kept her honor.

Emmy thanked the guard as he left, watching him leave for a moment before turning and looking into the office.

It wasn't very fancy, but Emmy guessed that this wasn't Mr. Sinclair's true office. Perhaps his real one, with his more important documents, was in a different part of Persephone. Or even somewhere else in Rapture.

The man was sitting at a desk, intently focused on a stack of papers. It seemed he hadn't noticed her. This did happen a lot with men.

So wrapped up in business that they wouldn't notice a war going on around them.

"Mr. Sinclair?"

Augustus then looked up, staring blankly at the girl for a moment before smiling grandly at her.

Emmy also didn't fail to notice the once over she received from said man as he stood and shook her hand in a friendly sort of way.

"Mornin' sugar. Sorry, I didn't see you there." The man chuckled. "Have a seat."

Emmy glanced around the room for a spare chair for her to sit in, but there was only Augustus' desk chair.

"Ah… here?" The girl asked hesitantly, touching a light hand to the back of the desk chair. "Where will you sit?"

"Oh I'm gonna stand, I need to have a look at you." The man chuckled, waving a dismissing hand as he took a step back. "But first… Just stand straight please."

Emmy stared at the man for a moment in confusion, not really knowing what her standing had to do with business. But she did anyway, standing with the best posture possible as she stared straight ahead.

"Hmm…" Augustus mused thoughtfully, supporting a hand under his elbow as he tapped a finger to his chin in his observation. "You stand like a very uncomfortable and very_ innocent _nun kiddo."

Emmy, although she knew it wasn't a compliment, let a large smile spread over her face in amusement as Augustus in turn smiled.

"Lemme help." The man then walked forward, taking one last calculating look at the girl before leaning down on his knees in front of her. "No funny business, I promise."

Despite the man's reassurance Emmy still felt strange as he pushed her feet together until they were side by side, lined up to perfection. Then, as he began to stand up, he put his hands on her hips and adjusted them in the slightest bit of a curve. He then took her hand and placed it on her hip, making her stand in a saucy sort of stance that made her feel… different.

"There. _Now_ you look like an innocent nun who is secretly naughty."

Emmy knew that she should be offended by such words and gestures, but she was never the uptight one.

Besides, she felt more confident, somehow. This stance did feel sort of sexy, in subtle sort of way.

Augustus seemed to know what he was doing, which made Emmy feel comfortable. She, of course, wanted to be his spokes model. Which meant that sometimes she'd have to be a tad sexy.

Who was it going to hurt? It wasn't as if she had family to judge her here down in Rapture…

"Try standin' like that from now on." Augustus chuckled, taking a step back to observe his work. "Now, I want you to sit down."

Emmy, catching onto the theme of trying to exude more sex appeal, sat down nicely in the chair with one leg crossed over the other and her hands rested _innocently_ on her thigh.

Augustus grinned upon the sight of this, giving her a little applause which had her laughing softly.

"Very nice…That is for when you are among older, more dignified men. But this…" He then leaned down onto his knees, carefully uncrossing her legs and putting them both down on the ground in a sort of flirtatious stance, her toes pointed inwards on their tippy toes. Then he had her rest her hands over her knees, causing her to lean forward in a more casual sitting position. "This is for when you are among young bucks who like that naive, teasin' thing. Trust me."

"And what category would you fall into Augustus?" Emmy smiled teasingly, causing the man to raise his eyebrows and give a soft laugh.

"Both work on me sugar. But we'll go into that later." He then leaned back against the shelf in front of Emmy's seat at his desk, crossing his feet over each other casually as he puffed absently on his cigar. "First… I want to talk to you about a couple things, alright?"

Emmy nodded, leaning back in her chair as she too crossed her legs, relaxing in her seat as she watched the man in front of her.

"Now I'm very intent on hirin' you Amelia, I just want to get that out in the open before I discuss the specifics with you. Okay?"

"Okay." Emmy nodded, trying as hard as she could not to jump for joy.

"Now, I like your style and I like your personality. Although Mr. Cohen was right, you do need to spice up your act; you have somethin' that attracts the eye like a fly to light." Augustus explained. "But, I'm here to help you perfect that attraction. You already got the guts to perform, I know that. But you don't have the guts to use your natural womanly sex appeal. Trust me, every woman has it."

Emmy decided that taking careful mental notes on what Augustus had to tell her was very important. He would be teaching her tricks that could take her a very far way in Rapture business. With him at her side it would be smooth sailing from here on out. Hopefully.

"Now… Firstly. We have to work on your hair."

"My hair?" Emmy repeated, looking up at the man as he walked over to her and squinted thoughtfully at her light brown locks.

"Yeah… It's cute, but it's a tad too… _little_ _girl_ cute. Do you always wear your hair tucked back like this?"

Emmy had made a habit of pulling two front curls back and clipping them to the back of her head. She'd done so for years, figuring that's how she looked best. "Ah, yes?"

"Not anymore." He smiled, patting her knee kindly. "Take the clip out and shake out your hair."

Emmy watched the man for a moment, wondering whether this was technically giving up her honor. Changing herself for some business man.

But a part of Emmy _wanted_ this change. Ached for it even.

She wanted to be seen as a beautiful, sexy woman for a change. Not an innocent girl who has a pretty face.

So, Emmy reached back and unclipped the barrette, leaning over and shaking her hair out before swinging her head back up and smiling at Sinclair.

The man grinned broadly as his eyes scanned over her more mature and far more attractive look, her short, curled hair in the smallest of messes that most Hollywood starlets had nowadays.

"Very good…" He winked, standing up and looking the girl's dress over.

It was a nice dress, for one of the more glamorous of housewives…

"We need new dresses for you too sugar…" The man mused as he looked her over, his brow furrowed in concentration. "May I?"

Emmy wasn't exactly sure what he was asking permission to do, but she nodded—figuring it'd be more adjusting.

And she was right, to an extent.

Emmy watched Mr. Sinclair as he took the fabric of her dress and wrapped it tightly around her body, hugging every slope and curve the female body provided. He then had her hold her dress in that way as he took a step back, observing the image with a broad smirk.

"You'll be wearing more fashionable dresses from now on my dear, dear Amelia. That's for sure." He chuckled, motioning for her to let her dress hang back in it's normal design. "You have a nice body kid, why don't you show it off?"

"Oh… I don't know." Emmy sighed, knowing full well that she simply wore the fashion most ladies had back in South Carolina. No one there was as glamorous as say… Marilyn Monroe or Rita Hayworth. Or even the more glamorous and outgoing women of Rapture. It was the only style Emmy had known through out the years.

"Well, I hope you don't mind wearin' more flatterin' clothes then?" The man smiled, leaning back against the shelf he had been resting against before. "As the new pretty face of Sinclair products I need you to be representin' my company. Meanin' no workin' at any of the places down in Siren Alley, no splicin', no workin' for Fontaine or Ryan unless I have permitted it—or any other company for that matter—and you have to keep in shape. Is that clear sugar?"

"Yes of course." The girl nodded, watching Mr. Sinclair pacing back and forth. "I was just wondering though… Will this interfere with my singing career?"

"No, no, no. You see, I think you singin' around Rapture is real nice for your image. I'll help you with that as well. I know most of the club owners 'round here, should be a piece of cake." He replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "What you'll be doing is advertisements for my various businesses. And, of course, you'll be allowed to do other advertisements under my consent."

"That sounds real grand Augustus, truly…" Emmy breathed in the unreal quality of this opportunity. To think not too long ago she was considering leaving Rapture! An opportunity like this would never present itself on the surface… Perhaps Rapture would begin to perk up from here on out.

Augustus chuckled, looking her over briefly before making a face. "There is one thing I'll need you to do. I'm not sure if you'll like it much though doll…"

Emmy looked up curiously, her eyes following the man as he walked around her and looked calmly through the drawers of his desk. "What is it?"

"You know the song _Diamond's Are a Girl's Best Friend_, don't you?"

Emmy grinned, nodding and laughing softly as Augustus pulled a piece of paper from his desk. "Yes of course. It's true you know."

Augustus chuckled and nodded knowingly at the statement, glancing down at the paper in his hands absentmindedly. "Good. You could perform it then?"

"Oh yes, I'd love to." The girl suddenly became excited. She'd remembered seeing Marilyn performing it in a film she saw back in '53. It was a fun song that Emmy had sung before. It was, of course, rather innocent compared to the film version. Having been sung at a parade back in South Carolina when she was 17.

Augustus smiled at her, pondering on how well this was all coming together. He had needed a girl who was charismatic to represent his products. Someone that could become the icon of Rapture's entertainment. It would take some work of course… But he had a feeling Amelia was perfect for that role.

So, he then handed her the flier in his hands. She looked up at him questioningly before studying the picture, tilting her head to the side.

"On your 20th birthday I want you to perform two songs at Eve's Garden. By then you'll be primped and prepared for it. It'll be the kick off of your career; I can promise you that sugar."

"But… Isn't Eve's Garden for _exotic_ dancers?" Emmy asked, studying the picture of the beautiful blonde woman on the flier with the name Jasmine Jolene in big bold letters, accompanied by the phrase '_Andrew Ryan's Favorite Gal!_''.

"Yes, but you aren't one. That's Jolene's job. _Your_ job is to provide musical entertainment for the men who attend Eve's Garden. You have to steal the show from blondie, that's the only way. Like it or not honey, blondes are in right now." Augustus explained, leaning down on his knees in front of her. "I want you to prove that brunettes are just as fine and delicious as any ol' buttercup. If you want to get recognized, you have to be the best."

Emmy knew that he was right. Of course he was, he'd been doing business the majority of his life.

But… the thought of performing at a gentlemen's club…

What would the society of Rapture think of her then? All of her new friends…; Grace and Diane especially.

Although Grace was pretending to be a Ryan supporter, Emmy knew it was all a fake. She did it for her safety and that was easy to understand… But what if she knew that Emmy was buying into the upper class of Rapture?

Sure, Emmy wanted to reach out to all people. It didn't really matter to her if they were rich or not, only that they loved her and her music for what they were.

But the girl had to face facts: most of the poorer districts were splicing heavily on ADAM these days. It was becoming obvious, even to Emmy, who lived in a balance between upper and middle class.

Then there was Diane, the emotionally unstable and only real best friend that Emmy had down here. So far that is. Emmy knew full well that Jasmine Jolene and Diane didn't exactly get along, considering they both wanted the same man. So for Emmy to imagine how betrayed Diane might feel if she thought her friend who she'd confided in was now befriending her enemy…

It was all so complicated, and in truth, it made Emmy's worry turn into an incessant, uncomfortable ache in her stomach.

But the girl knew that this was for _her_. She had come here on selfish reasons and she was glad she did. Rapture was her utopia in the way that she would make it her own.

It was a new place with people she'd never met and that gave her the opportunity to change her identity from goody two shoes Amelia to saucy and unpredictable Emmy Rousseau.

And here was her guide, kneeling right before her with a reassuring smile on his kind face.

So, Emmy smiled right back, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them excitedly.

"Of course I will. Tell me what to do and how to do it. On one condition…"

Augustus raised an eyebrow and nodded, signaling for the girl to continue with her request.

The girl's smile widened before chuckling softly, giving Augustus a nice little wink. "You'll call me Emmy from now on."


	10. All Glammed Up

_January 23rd, 1958_

Emmy gazed discreetly across the table at her blonde companion, slowly lifting the icy spoon to her lips and letting the sweet chocolate ice cream slide over her tongue.

Since Emmy's meeting with Augustus on the 18th she had been busy, busy, _busy_…

Rehearsals at Eve's Garden, meetings with photographers, shopping for an entire new wardrobe, taking up tennis as a work out to maintain her weight, singing lessons, dance lessons, photo shoots, tea with Diane, nights at the Kashmir, and performances at the limbo were only some of the activities the young brunette had to endure.

It'd been an extremely long 5 days and Emmy was entirely and utterly exhausted.

But, always the people pleaser, Emmy kept her promise to Diane of having ice cream and cola in Arcadia.

Although, some parts of Arcadia were closed due to… well, certain 'maintenance' issues.

So, the two young women had gotten their ice cream and Hop Up and paid for a table among the flowers and plants. It was supposed to be a pleasant day-date, until Emmy informed Diane of her plans for her birthday.

Diane had wanted to take Emmy out to every club in Rapture—decent club that is—and have an absolute ball.

Emmy would love to do that, she truly would. But after meeting the girls at Eve's Garden and working with Mr. Sinclair more… well, Emmy began to like this idea of performing a saucy little number at Eve's Garden more and more.

What's the harm anyway? It'd only be two songs… maybe three or so if there was an encore…

Speaking of which, Diane was especially irked upon hearing Emmy's songs for that night.

Emmy guessed that _Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend_ and _My Heart Belongs to Daddy_ weren't exactly subtle. But they were fun songs…

Besides… Emmy was guiltily and very secretly excited for some real male attention. At least from someone besides a man who already had too many women on his arm to deal with… Namely Andrew Ryan.

He wasn't Emmy's type anyhow. And as for Mr. Sinclair, Emmy didn't like to dip her pen in company ink.

"Diane… Why don't we go out the night befo-… Oh wait…" Emmy winced as Diane narrowed her eyes, stirring her melting ice cream around her glass bowl as the brunette sighed apologetically. "I have dress rehearsal that day…"

"Emmy, listen." Diane mumbled, setting her spoon down with a light clatter. "It's not that I don't want you to get success. I just don't want you to let Mr. Sinclair turn you into some… airhead starlet."

Emmy looked down at her well fitting white dress with black polka dots scattering it, then down at the new shiny black pumps Augustus had bought her not too long ago.

Yes, perhaps she was more glamorous then before… her hair less child-like and more womanly, her makeup more maturely and beautifully done, and her clothing… tighter.

But Emmy made sure she wasn't selling out. She _knew_ she wasn't.

Was it such a crime to wear flattering clothes and act like a grown woman? She was turning 20 for Christ's sake!

She cared for Diane, she truly did, but it felt as though she had a case of the sour grapes… Not that she was jealous of Emmy, but perhaps angry that her closest companions were surrounding themselves with Jasmine Jolene.

Emmy hadn't intentionally done so… Jasmine was simply an interesting woman… she was wild and care free and so tremendously _beautiful_.

Jasmine had also taught Emmy a thing or two about charming the male race…

But that was neither here nor there. What mattered at the moment was trying to cheer Diane up. The only question was exactly _how_ to do that.

"I'm not Diane trust me. I've just decided, now that I'm turning twenty, I need to stop dressing and acting like a child. I want to be taken seriously." Emmy explained as she let another chunk of chocolate ice cream melt down her throat, pointing her spoon at Diane as she spoke. "Jasmine isn't so bad you know… Despite trying to take Mr. Ryan…"

Diane looked outraged in such a dramatic way it could only be hers, pressing her lips in a thin line as she tapped her fingernails irritably against the table. "Jasmine is not _good_ if that's what you're implying. She's just some cheap streetwalker trying to earn an extra buck off my fiancé."

Emmy was about to call Diane on her insult when the word fiancé caught her attention. The girl looked from Diane's heated eyes down at her ring finger, eyeing its bareness silently. "Congratulations Diane, I had no idea…"

Diane looked up from her aimless glaring at her bowl and stared at her brunette friend, following her amber gaze to her ring finger before sighing dejectedly.

"I'm not _really_ engaged to Andrew… Although I'm his public… _girl_, I doubt he's gonna settle down anytime soon." The blonde grumbled, glaring at her ring finger. "I figured fiancé sounds more dignified then mistress."

"Mistress sounds more exotic." Emmy smiled with a playful poke at Diane's bicep.

Diane laughed softly as she shook her head, heaving a sigh as she looked up at Emmy.

"Oh I'm sorry Emmy… I'm just so used to your company that when you aren't around I get a little… fussy I guess." Diane shook her head, closing her eyes as she rubbed her temples. "I'm really happy for you, I truly am. Of course, I knew Mr. Sinclair would like you."

"What made you think that?" Emmy chuckled, her words muffled slightly by the ice cream on her tongue.

"You just seem to be his type… Speaking of which…" Diane smirked, looking around the two of them briefly before leaning forward. "All your new posters around Rapture say 'Sinclair's Gal'. Are you two…?"

"No, no…" Emmy laughed, holding a hand to her mouth as she swallowed the chocolate. "He's a charming man but, no… I don't currently have my sights set on anyone."

"What about Mr. Faber?" Diane winked, snaking her tongue out with a saucy grin and capturing her straw in between her lips.

"Mm, what about him?" Emmy hummed thoughtfully, remembering those strange eyes and that oh-so-serious physique. He was attractive, yes. In that superiority sort of way. Otherwise he seemed kind of _normal_...

"Oh I don't know… I bet you could sing your way into his cold, business man heart." Diane snorted, causing Emmy to laugh a little too obnoxiously for the couple a few tables to their left.

"Yes, but… he seemed boring didn't he?"

Diane clicked her tongue disapprovingly, causing Emmy to smile as she sipped at her Hop Up. "So picky… All these rich men are interested in you and all you care about is someone exotic."

"Money doesn't matter to me." Emmy sighed as she stirred the melted remains of her ice cream around the crystal bowl. "I want someone who loves me and my voice."

"Well, I suppose I see why you don't return _Mr_. Ryan's affections then." Diane chuckled bitterly, glaring at her soda bottle. "Andrew is one of the most unromantic men I've ever met… I like him for his intensity and his… power… but what I wouldn't give for some caring nature…"

Emmy made a face at Diane's troubles, wanting to shake some sense into the girl.

She wished she could tell Diane of Mr. Ryan's true nature… but what would happen if Diane took it the wrong way? She'd go straight to Mr. Ryan, without intention of really harming Emmy, but it'd most likely get the brunette thrown in Persephone. A place she truly did _not_ want to go to.

Emmy happened to look at the large clock post in the middle of the Tea Gardens, mentally cursing herself for lack of eternal clock.

"Diane, I'm really sorry, but I have to go for a fitting with Mr. Sinclair." Emmy sighed, quickly standing and straightening her dress out neatly. "But listen, my next birthday, I promise, I'm all yours. 1959 will be our year of relaxation, alright?"

"Oh, well, alright." Diane looked up in question, looking slightly flustered at Emmy's sudden departure. "1959 it is."

* * *

Crystal blue eyes studied the brunette beside her, scanning over her big red lips, her dark, defined brows, and her perfectly waved brown locks.

She finally looked like the singer she always wanted to be, her amber eyes studying her body in the mirror as Maria, the girls' assistant at Eve's the Garden, laced up the corset that held Emmy together.

Jasmine was happy for the girl; she was real cute and bubbly. A nice change from the catty bitches around here…

But she was so obviously nervous for her performance that Jasmine wondered whether or not she'd be able to pull through…

Jasmine dipped her finger in the melted chocolate fondue in the bowl on her vanity, tapping her heeled foot and keeping her eyes on Emmy as she sucked the chocolate off her finger absently.

Of course, Jasmine wasn't gonna deny that this girl was trying to become the star of Rapture.

That was _her _job… _Jasmine_ was supposed to be the star.

But Jasmine knew that being a stripper at some fancy club wasn't gonna help her get famous… it only hindered her chances.

She'd already been turned down on many occasions by that pompous Sander Cohen… Just cause she took her clothes off and swung on a damn pole.

"There ya go honey. All fitted." Maria smiled at the girl through the reflection of the mirror, patting her arm as Emmy beamed.

"Oh it's marvelous Maria!" Jasmine smirked at Emmy's excitement, swirling another glob of chocolate onto her finger and licking it off.

Emmy turned around a few times, looking the ensemble over in every angle possible. It looked as if she didn't miss checking out a single inch of skin, a wide grin spread over that bright face.

Then she turned to Jasmine, a curious look on her face as she posed for the blonde. "Is it too much?"

Jasmine observed the silver and white dress, absolutely glittering and sparking with the sequins and jewels that covered the entire corset and skirt. The top was fringed with little dangling diamonds—real or not, Jasmine wasn't sure. And lord, it was cutting it short… It went just down mid-way to the girl's thigh, where criss-crossed tights covered her lean legs. And her shoes, perhaps just as beautiful as the dress, were also sparkling like no tomorrow.

"Yes." Jasmine grinned, biting onto her knuckle gleefully.

"Fantastic." Emmy beamed at her companion, giving a little clap of excitement as she observed herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time. "What do you think Augustus?"

Jasmine glanced over to the corner of the dressing room where Mr. Sinclair sat, a smug look about himself as he observed his girl in the stunning outfit.

"Well honey, I think you're certainly livin' up to this diamond in the rough phrase…" The man chuckled as he observed the sequins, causing Emmy to laugh softly. "You look real good Emmy. Truly."

Jasmine figured that Mr. Sinclair and Emmy's relationship was… flirtatious, but only just. They didn't seem the type to strike up a fling.

Emmy was too sweet and Mr. Sinclair too caught up in his business.

But they seemed close, which sometimes made Jasmine wonder…

"Now that you have that ensemble on, we have to go document it sugar." Mr. Sinclair announced as he stood, patting the wrinkles from his clothes as he walked over to Emmy. He stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, looking at her reflection through the vanity. "We need to go meet with Paparazzi, he's agreed to take your new poster photo for a pretty price. Meet me up stairs when you're ready."

Emmy nodded and gave Mr. Sinclair a quick kiss on the cheek and an affectionate pat on his arm before he left the room.

Jasmine watched the girl as she did a quick observing of her hair and makeup, giving her curls a little adjusting as she hummed absently to herself.

"Hey, Emmy?"

Emmy looked over upon Jasmine's address, a permanent smile on her red lips. "Hm?"

"After your shoot, would you want to go shopping with me?" Jasmine asked with a small smile, absent mindedly swirling the chocolate around and around. "I'd go with one of the girls but, they're all bitches."

Emmy snorted as she looked around the dressing room, as if checking to see if any of the Eve's Garden dancers were around to hear that blunt little insult.

Figuring it was safe, Emmy then glanced over at the blonde with an amused look. "Yes, I'd love to. But you have to be careful with what you say around here Jasmine; you never know who might be listening."

"Don't I know it…" Jasmine sighed with a smirk, leaning her head back against her chair and studying her reflection in her own vanity. "But hey, they all know that if I had my way, I'd be performing for Sander Cohen in his theater. Not in some high end strip joint."

Emmy glanced at Jasmine from the corner of her eye, secretly wondering if Mr. Cohen had treated Jasmine the same way he had treated her.

It seemed so, judging by the facial expression the blonde took on when speaking of him.

"You could." Emmy smiled at the beautiful woman lounging in the chair to her right, causing her to look over thoughtfully at the brunette. "I'll see you after the shoot. In front of Eve's Garden?"

Jasmine nodded, smiling reassuringly at Emmy before she scurried off after Mr. Sinclair.

* * *

Leon stared at the poster in front of him, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes narrowed.

The poster read in big, stylistic letters:

**Sinclair's Favorite Gal Says, "I always prefer Sinclair's Spirits over any other!" Come down to Sinclair Spirits today!**

But what caught Leon's eye was the amber eyed pin up grinning brightly back at him; clad in tight sailor shorts and a blue button up shirt tied up high on her ribs.

It was that girl, Amelia Rousseau.

But, she looked different… more glammed up or somethin'. Definitely more appealing to a wider audience he supposed.

Before she looked younger then her age, with her old fashioned clothing and innocent hair styles.

Seems old Sinclair buffed out the rough on her…

These posters for Augustus Sinclair's products were all over Rapture. Even in Pauper's Drop. This particular poster was the more famous of the bunch, considering she was bending over in a saucy little pose, but the whole sex pot visage was played off nicely by the happy grin on her bright face.

Leon wasn't the only one staring, bystanders stopped to either shake their head at something so bold—usually conservative housewives or bitter old women—or appreciate it—most of the male population of Rapture.

It was Leon's break and he'd decided to eat somewhere else besides the fishery. Circus Value food just wasn't cutting it these days—not that it ever had…

But all he saw lately were posters of that Amelia girl. She was in the paper too. An article about her performances in the Kashmir, a review he supposed.

He'd read it, only out of curiosity. It talked about a bunch of technical things about her voice, mostly good but some slightly criticizing. But that was for the arties around Rapture, the next was by some reporter who'd done an interview with her.

It was a simple profile on her, no front page crap. But it was something.

He supposed she'd gotten over her rejection with Cohen real fast. And she'd been picked up by the next best thing when wanting to make it big in Rapture—Augustus Sinclair.

A sly bastard, but a smart one.

Leon figured that the girl caught Sinclair's eye in one way or another, and that simply made him curious.

Although, Leon supposed he'd see the relationship of the two on the 26th.

Jerry, somehow, nabbed a reservation for Leon to go to Eve's Garden on the night of Amelia's debut performance.

It was sold out within a day and a half, so as to how Jerry—a spliced up, smelly idiot—got a reservation, it was beyond him. But he was amused that he'd even thought to get him a spot to view the event.

He supposed Jerry had done it as a joke, considering Leon had been interested in this girl even before she became all model-like.

Of course, she'd been here for only so long and she'd already been snatched up and made into an upcoming star. Figures, especially in a place like this.

Pretty people usually get what they want. Take Jasmine Jolene for example. She wanted fame and a rich guy to pay for everything that went with it. That's what she got.

At least, fame among the men of Rapture. She was pretty infamous among the women. Georgia hated Jasmine Jolene, especially in knowing that Leon had the hots for her.

"Hey, you hear she's performin' at Eve's?"

Leon inclined his head over his shoulder slightly, eyeing the two men who had also stopped to look at the poster.

"Yeah, I couldn't get a seat, all filled up with rich pricks. Are you goin'?" The other replied, scratching the back of his head as he leaned against the wall opposite the poster, eyeing it with an appreciative smirk.

"Nah. I figure I'll watch it on the TV. You think they'll broadcast it?"

"Heh, I doubt it. Ryan'll probably keep it private, you know? He never broadcasted Jolene's shit."

"I heard that Rousseau chickie is Sinclair's piece now. You know, the Desi Arnaz look alike."

Leon took one last look at the poster, studying that signature smile before pulling his jacket around him tighter and walking off towards Finley's Eat In Take Out.

* * *

Brigid Tenenbaum stared down at the limp body on the table in front of her, the continuous beep that rang through the room a sign that her failure was a reality, not just of the imagination.

The woman's eyes studied the small hands laying limp on the table, the childish nose, the thin brown hair, and the closed eyes.

It wasn't the first time that a little girl had died on this table, but it was the first time that it had shocked Tenenbaum to her core.

"Dr. Tenenbaum?"

The woman turned on the sound of the voice beside her, holding her blood covered gloves at her sides as the nurse eyed the girl on the table warily.

"What is wrong with this girl? I told Fontaine to only supply healthy young girls…" Tenenbaum snapped, trying to hide the shaken feeling in her body as the blood of a small girl smeared over her lab coat.

"She is-… _Was_, perfectly healthy, Doctor. It wasn't you or her that caused her expiration, it was the slug."

Tenenbaum looked sharply at her assistant before looking down at the slug that inched its way out of the young girl's open stomach.

Of course, when they'd found this ADAM slug she had thought it looked different. And she had asked Suchong to have a look at it before his death.

After his 'careful observation' Suchong had informed her that it was simply a discoloring in reproduction; it was perfectly fine to implant into a girl. But upon putting the slug into the little girl's stomach her heart beat gave multiple spasms for minute or so before they ultimately lost her completely.

"Dr. Suchong told you this slug was fit for the process, yes? So why did it kill this little girl?" Tenenbaum sighed, staring questioningly at her assistant. She hated having to lose a life in the process of discovering. It was a sign of her miscalculation—which it truly was, especially in letting that fool Suchong observe the slug…

Tenenbaum was simply too busy dealing with Fontaine and the whole gatherer situation to deal with something that could turn out to be nothing.

"Yes Doctor, but it seems Dr. Suchong didn't exactly run compatibility tests with the slug and the little girls…"

Brigid clenched her fists in frustration as a pair of orderlies took the dead body away from the table. "Has nobody checked this?"

"Actually Dr. Tenenbaum, I have. But I've only just finished the results, or else I would have informed you before surgery." The woman's assistant replied, his eyes watching the little girl being taken away with a wince. "Shall I tell-,"

"Yes, yes, tell me." Brigid snapped, walking over to the sink provided and throwing her gloves in the biohazard can before washing up.

"Well, that slug is indeed a carrier of ADAM, but it's far too advanced for the bodies of little girls. It fact, it's only compatible with one blood type, age, and gender—similar to the standard ADAM carrier but it requires a far more complex host environment. It seems that the slug is a newer specimen, or perhaps more advanced. Either way, it's different then the others."

Tenenbaum forgot her irritation and instantly felt curiosity, looking over at the slug that was now being confined in its previous glass jar.

"Go on."

The man smiled, as if very proud of himself for doing research, and followed Tenenbaum as she walked over to the jar containing the slug.

"It's only compatible with the blood type B-, with the age group 18 to 25—roughly, and female, always female it seems."

Tenenbaum narrowed her eyes at such typical results. Of course this slug, which holds more ADAM then most, requires a host that is extremely rare. Especially in a city under the ocean with no means of going to the surface for more candidates.

"I suggest that we simply release the slug back into the ocean, seeing as it is very unlikely that we will find a compatible host..." The assistant sighed, obviously regretting the wastefulness of such a task.

"No… I'll keep it in my care. I'd like to study it more." Brigid shook her head dismissively, picking the jar holding the creature up and turning to her assistant. "In the mean time I want you to send those requirements to Dr. Steinman and the hospital staff of Rapture. Do not tell them what it is for; just tell them that Dr. Tenenbaum has specifically asked to search for a body within those requirements. Understood?"

The assistant looked skeptically at his superior, wondering whether or not this was a lost cause. Either way he knew he couldn't exactly disobey Tenenbaum.

So he simply nodded, signaling to the woman before him that she could retreat to her office in peace.

* * *

Double post for Christmas!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!


	11. Show Time!

_January 26th, 1958_

Emmy stared at her reflection as the bustling girls pranced and chattered amongst themselves throughout the dressing room.

The girl had tried over and over to calm her nerves… she truly did. But that jumpy, bubbly feeling was rumbling in her gut so incessantly that Emmy couldn't stop fidgeting.

The entire day was spent being wished Happy Birthday and prepping for this performance… a performance that could very well embarrass her into an oblivion she could never return from.

Perhaps she didn't come off appealing? What if she tripped? What if her voice cracked or she forgot the words-

Emmy jumped upon the hand that rested over hers, looking up with wide eyes to see Jasmine kneeling down beside her with a warm smile on her lips.

Jasmine was so beautiful it made Emmy doubt herself even more, wishing for just one night she could be as attractive as the woman in front of her.

With long, wavy blonde hair that shined natural golden in the light, blue eyes that shone a kind of bright that could compete with the sky, and the body of an hour glass, Jasmine was surely the bombshell the male population of Rapture desired.

How was she, a small skinny thing, supposed to catch attention when Jasmine Jolene was in very little clothing, swinging on a pole?

"Listen Emmy, you need to calm down." Jasmine chuckled, smoothing her soft hand over Emmy's comfortingly as the brunette nodded a little too quickly to be calm. "I know you're probably on the fritz but really, once you're up there, you'll be fine. Okay?"

Emmy breathed in deeply through her nose, listening faintly to the music already playing throughout Eve's Garden as some of the dancers put on their shows and various performances. "Okay…"

Jasmine shook her head as she laughed that light, charming little giggle of hers, standing up straight and giving Emmy's hand one last squeeze before making her way towards the stage entrance.

"Oh, Emmy? Just remember one thing."

The brunette turned questioningly towards Jasmine, eyeing the wide grin on her stunning face before she gave a playful wink. "Overplay it as _much_ as you can, trust me, it works."

The younger girl opened her mouth to reply but she could hear Jasmine's name being announced throughout the club, cuing her to make her entrance—which was followed by the loudest cheers and cat calls of the night.

Emmy felt the nerves jumping throughout her entire body, causing her to lay her head down on the vanity in front of her and groan loudly in frustration.

She wanted her mother's comforting and confident words but… she wasn't exactly sure they'd be ones of encouragement, considering she was performing two saucy songs at… well… a strip club.

"Sugar?"

"Oh!" Emmy jumped for the second time that night, making a note to be more observant of her surroundings as she looked behind her through the reflection of the mirror. "You startled me Augustus…"

_There_ stood a man that comforted her in spite of his natural intimidating nature, his grand gem of a smile making a little bit of the jumpies in her stomach settle.

Although she hadn't been business partners with Augustus for too long—having only signed her official contract back in their first meeting—she felt immensely comfortable around him.

Perhaps it was the familiar smooth southern drawl that had her melting into the calm, or maybe it was his presence.

Either way, Emmy was thankful he'd stopped by.

"You look like you've just eaten somethin' foul and are about to serve it back up fresh."

The humor helped. But in truth, that was how Emmy really felt…

"I-… Don't know if I will be able to pull this off… you saw Jasmine! She's so beautiful and all those men love her! How will I compete with that? And besides, what if I fall or what if I mess up the song or…-"

"_Whoa_ there kid…" Mr. Sinclair chuckled, resting his hands on her shoulders and giving them a squeeze as he leaned down, pressing his cheek to hers as he stared at her through the mirror. "If I didn't think you could do this, I wouldn't have had you sign a contract bindin' that pretty little face of yours to me. So just relax will ya doll? Just do what you do best: sing and be a tease about it."

Emmy stared at Augustus for a moment before smiling slowly, looking down at her hands in her lap before chuckling to herself quietly.

He was right of course… she had to be strong.

If she were to pursue her passion she had to be confident. Who cares if she messed up? Practice makes perfect… Right?

"Alrighty?" Augustus smiled, giving her shoulders another squeeze as he eyed her slowly growing smile.

"Alrighty…" Emmy sighed, reaching a hand up and patting it softly against the man's as she gave him a kiss on his temple.

* * *

Leon was shocked at both the amount of men and the variety of them at Eve's Garden for the debut performance of 'Sinclair's Girl'.

Not only were there some notable rich bastards—namely Andrew Ryan, Sander Cohen, Sullivan, Augustus Sinclair, and Randall Faber—but there were also scum like himself.

He'd found a couple acquaintances from the fishery and sat with them at a table. A table right across from the table which held the arrogant, prissy titans of Rapture.

Ryan sat next to Cohen, his eyes glued to Jasmine Jolene as she shook her body all over the pole in that tiny little outfit of hers.

Cohen seemed to be real sour, as if he didn't want to be here. Leon doubted that he did, considering he didn't exactly have an eye for women… and certainly wasn't even remotely interested in Amelia.

Sullivan seemed suspicious, his eye constantly landing on Leon before looking away in a thoughtful sort of way. As if he were scheming something that wasn't in Leon's favor.

Sinclair had been talking with that Faber chump for a while before he went back stage, probably to go see Amelia.

And that Randall guy, he watched the girls on stage but didn't really seem so interested. Leon wondered if he wasn't so straight of a line, like Cohen, but then he remembered that he had been married to some actress up on the surface… At least, that's what Leon had heard.

Leon on the other hand was _very_ much enjoying himself. Lately his life had gone to shit; Georgia and Jerry goin' crazy on ADAM, being put back under investigation, and being tortured weren't exactly his cup of fuckin' tea. But watching half naked girls prancing around and shakin' their blessed bodies for his enjoyment was a real stress reliever.

That and being with someone other then Jerry was nice, especially when they don't necessarily go batshit on EVE hypos. At least, not in his presence.

Leon was about to take another drink of his beer when suddenly all the lights dimmed, the room falling quiet besides the occasional whisper.

The man's dark eyes flashed over to Sinclair as he made his way back to his seat with a satisfied smile on his face, the cigar hanging out of his mouth smoking a nice musky smell into the club as he sat down quietly.

Suddenly, a silhouette of a woman appeared on the stage, standing in front of a microphone stand.

"_There_ she is…" His companion at his side whispered with a quiet chuckle, eyeing the hidden girl on the stage.

Her voice, real beautiful on its own, rang quietly and almost eerily through the dark club, her appearance still hidden by the dark. "The French… are glad to die for love… They delight, in fighting duels… But I prefer a man who lives, and gives expensive… _jewels_…"

Suddenly the lights turned on with the loud booming of the band playing the signature song, but all Leon could concentrate on was the woman on the stage.

She was real fixed up alright…

The spotlight shone on her, illuminating the sparkling silver dress she wore. It was short, only going to her thighs to show off those wonderful pair of legs. The corset was certainly complimenting her… _assets_. Pushing said pair of knock-outs up in that delicious way women often have them. She looked like a diamond herself as she grinned brightly through the spotlight.

Speaking of diamonds… she was covered in them. Compliments of Sinclair no doubt.

"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but _diamonds_ are a girl's best friend…" The girl chimed out, running her hands in a sultry kind of way along her corseted stomach, causing the ice on her hands to sparkle in the light. "A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat…"

Leon watched with raised eyebrows as the girl then began running her hands lower in a teasing sort of way.

"Or help you feed your _pussycat_." The girl purred, inciting some chuckles and loud cat calls from some of the men in the crowd.

As she sang on Leon began to wonder where the girl had been hiding this sultry little tease behind that innocent visage. She still played off the innocence, which attracted men like cattle, but Sinclair must have informed her of it's effectiveness on the male race.

"But square cut, or pear shaped these rocks don't lose their shape! Diamonds are a girl's best friend!" Amelia beamed, bending her knee in a little subtle pose that showed the side-length of her thigh, making Leon grin.

"Didn't know she had it in her." Leon glanced over at the table that held Ryan, Cohen, and Sinclair, eyeing Sullivan as he chuckled.

"Interesting job Mr. Sinclair…" Cohen mused in a bitter sort of tone.

"Thank you very much Sander my friend." Replied the very smug Sinclair.

Leon looked back to the stage as Jasmine Jolene seemed to stage-sneak up behind Amelia as the band pounded loudly through the song, running her hands up the brunette's thighs playfully before yanking the skirt of the dress off the girl. This incited a playful little "Oh!" To ring out loudly from Amelia, looking down at the sparkling jumpsuit she now wore.

It was a tight little suit that cut off as shorts above her mid-thigh, similar to the poster with the sailor shorts. These God damned shorts hugged every little slope and curve of those wonderful hips, making a slow smile spread over Leon's face as even louder cat calls, whistles, and cheers sounded from the crowd—from the less dignified of gentleman of course…

Girls from previous performances made there way around the tables, doing little dances and little teases for the men as Amelia sang on.

"Black Starr! Frost Gorham! Talk to me Mr. Sinclair, _tell me all about it_!" The girl purred in a playful little growl, pointing at Sinclair at his table and giving a saucy little wink.

Said Sinclair grinned slowly up at the girl, swirling his drink around in it's glass as the smug just dripped off of him in waves.

The bastard.

"There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer thinks you're awful nice!" Amelia beamed, pretending to be unaware of Jasmine Jolene coming up behind her, pushing Amelia to the side so the girl was bent over with her behind towards Jasmine's hand, which promptly gave Amelia's ass a little slap that incited another little "Oh!" from the grinning girl.

Then Amelia turned, wagging her finger at Jasmine as if she were her boss before purring ever so teasingly to the crowd. "But get that ice or else no dice!"

The whole little bit with Jasmine and Amelia seemed to get the crowd riled up, approving cheers roaring through the men as Jasmine gave a little wave and retreated from the stage.

Then the band took over as Amelia pranced off the stage into the crowd. The spotlight following her as she wound through the tables of men, blowing kisses and giving little shakes of her hips in the direction of certain lucky men—who approved highly and got either slaps on the back from their buddies or knowing elbows. She did so until she made it to Ryan's table, running her gloved hand along Sinclair's shoulders flirtatiously and beaming at the men there.

Then, leaning over until her face was only a few several inches in front of Sander Cohen's, she gave him a large, bright grin and purred, "Tiger…" Before giving a cute little high pitched growl.

Leon had no idea what that meant, but it put a glare so dark on Cohen's suddenly stiffened face that it had Sinclair laughing and Amelia smiling in a satisfied way.

Then the girl turned to Sinclair, who was holding out a diamond bracelet. Leon didn't know if the diamonds were choreographed or not, but Amelia never missed a cue, giving a little theatrical gasp and snatching it up with a grin before planting a big, playful kiss on a very smug Sinclair's cheek. She then waved flirtatiously to the men at the table before making her way back towards the stage.

But not before running her hand along Leon's neck, which made him stiffen as he watched her prance back through the tables, giving men little grins and winks, accompanied with the occasional shake of the hips.

Leon knew that she was simply doing that to random men in the crowd, but he still felt something stir in his chest upon the feel of her silk glove on his skin.

"Eh you lucky bastard!" One of his friends grinned, punching him playfully in the bicep.

The band begin to get louder, booming out the notes as Amelia approached the mike stand again.

"Cause that's when those louses go back to their spouses!" The girl grinned out at the crowd, casting her hands out in emphasis with the verse as her voice began to pick up.

"Diamonds… are a…. girl's…! Best…!" The girl belted out in powerful notes before pausing.

Everything went silent for a moment as she uttered the final word in a breathy, sultry voice… "_Friend_…"

Then the instruments trumped their final note powerfully as Amelia bent over in a theatrical bow, her brown curls sweeping up as she stood back up with the brightest smile Leon had ever seen on her.

All the men in the entire club, including Leon, burst out in an absolute uproar of applause, cheers, and loud, obnoxious cat calls as the brunette beamed into the spotlight. She blew kisses to the crowd as she retreated from the stage, the applause lasting longer then it ever had for a certain Jasmine Jolene…

* * *

"Fantastic sugar, I knew you had it in you…"

Emmy beamed at Augustus Sinclair as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight, warm hug. She had just changed from her performing clothes—which were hot and sweaty from doing not two, but 5 songs—and had come out to rest with Sinclair and the men at his table before heading off to the phones.

Apparently, she was a wild success. Which made the girl's heart soar with the kind of triumph only gods are supposed to feel.

She sincerely appreciated Jasmine's advice to overplay the performance. She was previously planning to perform, but not be too teasing. But the more she flirted and the more she teased the more attention she got it seemed.

The girl wasn't sure if that was the honorable thing to do but… _lord _was it fun.

"Yes, congratulations Amelia."

Emmy looked up from Sinclair's shoulder as he unwrapped his arms from her waist, instead draping his arm over her shoulders and holding her to his side as the girl met eyes with Andrew Ryan.

"You have quite the... stage presence…"

"Thank you Mr. Ryan. I truly appreciate it." Emmy smiled kindly, keeping her eyes on the man for a moment before searching the room briefly for Sander Cohen. "Where's Mr. Cohen? Has he left already?"

"Mm, I'm afraid so." Ryan nodded with the usual solemn expression. "He had an important last minute rehearsal to attend to… He sends his congratulations."

Emmy wondered on this 'last minute rehearsal'. More like an excuse to not have to watch the girl prance around the stage. Especially after that little stunt Emmy pulled with the little comment on… well, discovering her inner tigress.

But in truth, even if Emmy had discovered her inner tigress she wouldn't go to Cohen for an audition. After her experience with him and his behavior towards Jasmine, Emmy didn't think she wanted to associate with him.

Besides, she was _more_ then content with Mr. Sinclair. He was all she needed, obviously.

"Congratulations."

Emmy looked up upon the familiar smooth, deep voice, her amber gaze settling on Randall Faber as he smiled politely at her from Ryan's side.

"I'm not really so knowledgeable of singing, but you're voice was quite beautiful Ms. Rousseau…"

"Well, thank you very much Mr. Faber." Emmy smiled at the man, studying his oddly attractive face as he gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgment.

"Now that we're all done complimentin' my pretty little star, why don't we all head on down to the Kashmir for some relaxation?" Sinclair smiled, giving Emmy's shoulder a squeeze as she chuckled.

"I would love to join you gentlemen but I'm real exhausted. How about we make a date some night soon? I'd love to have your company." Emmy sighed with an apologetic smile, looking around at the men.

"Oh sure kid, you go rest. You got more work tomorrow you know." Augustus grinned, eyeing the girl's weak smile with amusement.

"Yes of course, how could I forget Mr. Sinclair?" Emmy teased lightly, leaning up and giving the man a warm kiss to his cheek before nodding politely in departure to the fellow companions. "I'll see you gentlemen later."

As Emmy made her way through the thinning crowd of men, stopping to sign her various posters and accepting heart felt birthday wishes from many a stranger, she began to feel a coming of great change.

Perhaps performing a bold number at an exotic dance club was not too life changing, but it had made a big change in how people viewed her as.

She was no longer with bounds—necessarily. She had her rules concerning her honor of course. But now she wasn't to be viewed as the young, pretty singer from South Carolina.

She was Emmy Rousseau, face of Sinclair products and performer.

Although the girl would have to vary the details about her performance this night, she would be calling her parents. Which is where she was headed now, to the same phone booths in Pauper's Drop that she'd used previously.

Perhaps it unwise to go into that neighborhood at night, when rogue splicers would be out and about. But Emmy had never been bothered before when visiting the booths, and besides, wasn't she recognized enough by the people of Rapture that they wouldn't think to bother her? The girl hoped so.

She truly was exhausted. Having been run ragged by Sinclair. But it was the kind of exhaustion that left a girl satisfied. She knew that all that work over the past week or so had been the foundation for her career in this city.

The girl would do whatever it took to build more on that foundation.

Besides, it was only 1958. Emmy planned to stay in Rapture for as long as possible… She figured—if she hadn't met a man of course—she'd stay in Rapture for a good 20 or so years before going back to the surface.

The girl felt that if Rapture had presented so many opportunities to her in less then a month, then how many more would present themselves over the next year or so?

"Ah, Ms. Rousseau?"

Emmy stopped in the middle of her pace, turning around to see Mr. Faber jogging up to her with a smile on his face.

"Mr. Faber, how can I help you?" Emmy smiled, waiting until the man had composed himself before carrying on walking by his side.

"I'm sorry, I know I should have approached you about this back in Eve's Garden, but I had almost forgotten to speak to you about my business." The man grinned—actually grinned, sort of in a boyish way too—and slid his hand into his pants pocket. "And I apologize if I'm too forward. I of course have to speak with Sinclair about this as well… but…"

Emmy watched as the man pulled out a small business card, handing it over to the girl before giving her another honest kind of smile.

"Hop Up Cola? That's your business?" Emmy asked in a surprised manner after reading the card. "I had no idea Mr. Faber."

"Just call me Randall…" The man smiled in a charming, slow manner as he looked at Emmy, causing a smile to break out on the girl's face as well.

"Then call me Emmy, please."

"Alright then, Emmy, I own the rights to Hop Up Cola and I am co-owner of Worley Winery, down in Farmer's Market." The man explained in a humble manner, giving the girl a side glance to gouge her expression as they walked on towards the express station. "And I'm sure you've already guessed that I'd love for you to pose for an advertisement or two for Hop Up Cola."

Emmy chewed at the inside of her lip, trying as hard as she could to grin from the luck that was Rapture. The girl then cast her eyes up to the man at her side, studying his strange eyes in her observation before smiling warmly.

"Of course I'd love to… but I'm under contract with Mr. Sinclair, you'd have to speak with him first."

"Oh yes… I know." Randall nodded, chuckling slightly—as if he'd done something stupid. "I just think the highest of your talent Emmy, I truly do…"

Emmy paused just before entering the line to the opening doors of the express tram car, turning around and facing Randall with a thoughtful smile on her face.

In that moment she suddenly found this man immensely attractive. The fact that he actually appreciated her voice instead of the shaking of her behind made the girl have some kind of revelation about Randall Faber.

She looked him over, studying his soft looking brown hair, those signature grey eyes, his strange facial structure that was neither disproportionate nor beautiful, but more like an odd mix of both. And of course, Emmy had always loved tall men, and Mr. Faber stood exactly that at 6'2.

Quite the strange man, but maybe that's what was so interesting about him.

"Thank you Randall, you have no idea what it means to me that someone appreciates me for my voice and not my assets." Emmy smiled brightly, causing the man to chuckle and shake his head slightly.

The girl gave the man one last demure look under the fan of her dark lashes, smiling thoughtfully at him as he watched her step into the filling tram car.

* * *

Leon's shoulder was tingling the entire way back to Pauper's Drop. He didn't want to admit that it was because Amelia—apparently named Emmy for short now—had touched him, but he knew that was exactly why.

Somehow he'd become far more interested in her then the first day seeing her. Perhaps it was because of her voice, or her looks… Or maybe her smile.

Either way it had Leon wishing he'd tried to talk to her as she was signing autographs on her various Sinclair ads.

It wasn't as if he were in love with her or any shit like that. He just found her real eye-catching. Like the first time he saw her. She was bright and so happy, oblivious to any troubles around her.

That was the kind of attitude he needed around him… especially now.

The man sighed out the smoke that resided in his mouth as he stretched his neck, moving out of the way of a passing couple as he entered Pauper's Drop, luckily not running into another gang of splicers.

But, as luck would have it, he did run into one particular splicer…

Leon stopped in his tracks, eyeing the misshapen, deteriorated version of Georgia that leaned against the phone booth, hitting the receiver against the booth in frustration, as if it wasn't working.

She was mumbling to herself as Leon watched quietly, taking slow, careful drags on his cigarette as people brushed past him on their way through The Drop.

"God damn it!" The girl croaked, panting quietly as she itched almost impatiently at her arm, as if it were some small child pinching her for attention. "Pick up… please…"

Leon wondered briefly who exactly she was trying to call, and sincerely hoped it wasn't him. But seeing her there, panting as if she were beginning to panic, mumbling quietly to herself, and grinding her dirty fingernails away at her inflamed skin made Leon feel… miserable.

Like she were some kind of side show for people to laugh at.

Oh there goes Georgia. The girl who always got turned down and eventually turned to ADAM. Sad story you know, she ended up going crazy from the ridicule…

Leon sighed to himself, debating quite seriously whether he should try to get closure with the girl—because the last time he'd spoken with her it certainly wasn't the kind of closure he was looking for—or simply walk away, nipping this whole situation in the bud before it happened all over again.

But as the man looked around he noticed another person at the phone booths, a few receivers down from Georgia at a safe enough distance. He squinted his eyes, studying the short, milk chocolate hair and the cord that was almost knotted around a dainty finger with ruby red nails.

He'd figured that it was the Rousseau girl the second he saw her, but he wondered on who exactly she was calling. Her parents again? Most likely… it _was_ her birthday after all.

But the young man found it sort of ironic that the two women that dominated most of his thoughts—Georgia's thoughts of regret and irritation and Emmy's thoughts of interest—were both mere feet apart.

"Leon!"

Leon still didn't take his eyes from the brunette girl as she looked over her shoulder upon the shout near her, watching Georgia with her honey gaze as she left her receiver and walked over to Leon.

The man held eyes with the singer as he turned to face Georgia; only until his face was completely turned in her direction did he take his dark gaze from the beautiful brunette.

"I was just tryin' to call you… Where've ya been?" Georgia smiled in the way she used to when she was… normal. Her soft, pale brown eyes studying his face as the man tried as hard as he could not to look at her deformities.

"Out."

Georgia's smile faded very slowly, replacing itself with the slightest of suspicions until it transitioned into disappointment.

She could tell he felt awkward talking to her… and he did.

It was like she was stuck in an illusion, as if she'd never gone crazy on hypos and got addicted.

Back when they were close enough to go out to dinner every once and awhile… Hang out at his apartment, have a little romp in the sheets before he paid her and she left.

"I just wanted to see you tonight; I haven't in so long you know?" The girl smiled in a flirtatious way, causing Leon to glance briefly at Emmy. Her back was facing him as she talked to whoever it was on the other line, scuffing her heel absently on the dirty ground as she seemed to nod in agreement with her conversation.

"What're you talkin' about? I thought I told-,"

"Told me what?" Georgia interrupted with a strange kind of smile, attempting to reach a hand towards him.

Leon backed away in time to dodge her hand discreetly, eyeing her with hard, questioning eyes.

"You aren't payin' for a new girl are ya?"

Leon opened his mouth to reply but found his eyes following Emmy as she hung up the phone and grabbed her purse, looking around her briefly before making her way across Pauper's Drop.

"Uh…"

"Well? What about it?" Georgia pressed, her voice taking on a sort of jagged, jealous edge that made Leon take his eyes off of the retreating girl and settle on the one in front of him. "A new girlfriend I should know about?"

Leon felt incredibly anxious, his heart beating fast in a kind of warning that's supposed to make you retreat to a safe place… And Leon felt it, like flashing lights in his brain telling him to run away from the situation. Run to _something_. The feeling was making his heart pound as he glanced after Emmy's disappearing silhouette in the crowd, Georgia moving closer towards him.

"Georgia look, I thought we had ended this. I'm sorry but…-"

"If it's because of ADAM then I'll have you know I've quit. For good."

Leon looked down at the bruises lining her arms, the track marks so fresh he wouldn't doubt it if she shot up an hour ago. Besides, he didn't need to see track marks to prove that she was on ADAM.

Georgia had never been this bold with him, even when they had sex. She'd always been scared of him, anxious in his presence. ADAM was making her bolder in some kind of insane, twisted way.

The girl continued to mumble things to him but Leon's eyes were back at the last place he had seen the brunette before she… there!

She had paused to fix her shoe in the middle of the street, looking around her briefly before standing up and making her way up the stairs in front of her.

But Leon seemed to notice what she hadn't… The three men that leaned against the wall in front of the stairs that Emmy walked up.

They eyed Emmy curiously as she passed them, obviously seeming to recognize her, because they immediately began to follow behind her discreetly.

It was like a dream, Leon could see that this girl, one that had been on his mind a lot lately, was most likely going to be hurt by those men.

Simply judging that they were on ADAM made it easy to see that their intentions were never good… The dirty, ragged clothing and newly added deformations added to the case, making Leon step away from Georgia to follow after the three men.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

The girl grabbed Leon's arm hard and yanked him back, her strength causing the man to trip over his feet and stumble back into her.

The sickening feel of her greasy skin made Leon lurch away, yanking his arm from her clawed grip and looking back at her in bewilderment.

"Leave me the hell alone!" Leon growled at the girl's raging expression, ignoring the stares the two were receiving.

"I said I was _sorry_ Leon!"

Leon's eyes narrowed at the sudden change in mood, studying her frightened expression as the growing need to go after Emmy raged in his chest.

Leon then took off running, instantly hearing Georgia's heels clicking unevenly behind him, as if one were broken.

But he lost her with the blending of the crowd, jumping into a large group of people and disappearing from her sight in the shadows of Pauper's Drop, eyeing her outraged expression as she screamed loudly in frustration, causing many people to stare in shock.

"LEON! YOU BASTARD!"

The man watched her for a moment longer but… he knew he had to get to Emmy. Some stupid nag in his brain told him something wasn't right…

Leon rushed up the stairs, slipping slightly on a wrapper from the ground before running quickly up the next flight of stairs, his heart still pounding against his ribs.

* * *

Emmy smiled to herself as she made her way out of Pauper's Drop, feeling more satisfied with life then she ever had in Rapture.

It felt like everything was really coming together… With Mr. Sinclair, her career, her new friends, and she had finally set her eye on a man.

Although, of course, she wasn't going to actually going to make any advancements towards Mr. Faber so soon… And this feeling was nothing more then attraction to a charming man.

But he felt like the sort of man that would support her career of choice while supporting her financially as well.

Emmy didn't exactly want the housewife kind of life. But she didn't see anything wrong with dating business men…

Perhaps spending more time with him would provide a more clear opinion on the matter.

The girl felt on top of the world after telling her parents about her success in 'Iceland'. Her mother was so proud she actually started crying. And her father? Well, he was as proud as an awkward, loving father could be. That's all Emmy needed.

The girl only wished she could have her parents move to Rapture as well… Her father would love it no doubt, with the beauty of its architecture. Her mother… well, she might not like it at first. But she'd grow to love it.

Perhaps, after Emmy had made a better living in the city, she'd talk to Mr. Ryan about allowing her parents to live in Rapture—

Emmy stopped immediately in her tracks at the sight of three men—who could only be splicers, judging by their appearance—standing in her way. They were leaning against the wall in her path in a way that was so obviously a blockade that it jumpstarted Emmy's heart instantly.

The girl thought about turning around and going around them, or maybe she'd just walk right through them. Maybe they'd let her go… perhaps they were only fans?

But upon further investigation of the more bigger of the men, with grayed, red rimmed eyes and discolored skin with the kind of deformities that the men down in the docks had, Emmy doubted that these men were fans of nothing but ADAM.

"Hey… lookie there. Sinclair's Gal!" One of the men nudged his companion, nodding to Emmy as the girl gripped her purse tightly to her side and hesitated in her stance.

"You don't say…" The man's companion grinned a yellow-toothed smile, his eyes scanning up and down the girl's form as she looked at each man warily. "I've seen your posters for Sinclair's shit all over Rapture… Did you know that sweetheart?"

"I-,"

Emmy gasped loudly at the hand that closed over her elbow and pulled her firmly against something solid, her head whipping to the side and looking up at a familiar, strong face.

"Well I'll be God damned! Ain't that the pretty boy we beat the shit out of not so long ago?"

Emmy stared bewildered up at the man's hard, dark brown eyes, her heart aching with the fear in her chest as he held onto her tightly.

"Walk." The man ordered discreetly to her, keeping his eyes on the largest of the men… as if he knew him.

Emmy hesitated, not sure if she trusted any of these men. She'd seen the man on her arm down in the docks where the majority of men did ADAM on a daily basis, and also at the phone booths not too long ago. She'd grown to recognize him from the chance meetings in this giant city… But, perhaps the physical effects of ADAM hadn't reached him yet?

Suppose he was as insane on ADAM as these three men? Wouldn't she be in just as much danger with him as them?

So the girl, despite the nagging in the back of her head which told her to run as fast as she could away from these men, stood very still.

The man at her side looked slowly down at her with a dark glare upon her lack of movement, his brown eyes shining almost black in their dark color as they narrowed questioningly.

"Two for one deal eh? We take the girl and get to beat the shit out of her boyfriend in the process…" One of the men laughed at the sight of the two standing before him, one frightened to lack of movement and one trying to play tough.

"We don't have any ADAM. Fuck off."

Emmy looked up in shock at the man at her side, wanting to scream at him that these men were clinically insane on a drug that is supposed to enhance your strength and agility. Was he truly insulting these men when they were not only outnumbered but at an extreme disadvantage in strength?

"Oh that's a shame… but you two don't have to give us a hit for us to be happy." The largest of the men smirked, eyeing Emmy thoughtfully. "She's good enough I reckon."

"Walk, _now_…" The man hissed quietly to Emmy, forcefully pulling her forward as he began to walk past the men.

He kept Emmy on his left, on the opposite side of the men. He seemed to be making himself a shield between her and them, which made the girl watch his expression carefully.

It was tense as the two began walking past the three men, their eyes looking beyond amused at the situation at hand as Emmy swallowed down the lump that clogged her throat.

Suddenly, almost too fast for Emmy to comprehend, one of the men rushed forward to try to snatch her. But the man on her arm immediately barreled a solid shoulder into said attempt, forcing the man with a loud thud against the wall, then knocking the splicer to the ground with the strength of his sinewy muscles.

But he was outnumbered and soon the other two splicers pounced on the younger man, one of them tackling him to the ground with a loud slam as Emmy backed clumsily against the opposite wall.

"Get the hell out of here!" Her savior managed to snap harshly at her before one of the men slammed his fist into his jaw, making the blood from the contact splatter on the ground.

Emmy's first instinct was to run but… she couldn't just leave this man to be beaten to death!

The girl felt the tears in her eyes bubble over at the disturbing scene of an innocent man being brutally beaten by three others at once, blood splattering the ground with every punch he received.

Emmy searched desperately for someone around to help but… She knew no one would help when three splicers were involved. So the girl, in a moment of foolish, _foolish_ bravery, quickly launched herself towards a nearby piece of rumble that seemed to have broken off of one of the walls.

She lugged it over to the splicers and hit it as hard as she could on the back of the largest man's head, her heart lurching from the sickening blunt contact it made on his head.

The man who had tried to save her glared at her in such a way that it made her feel immensely stupid… and upon observing the large splicer's expression when he turned to look at the girl she knew that she was indeed _very_ stupid…

Emmy quickly lurched backwards and began to run but the splicer instantly grabbed her leg, causing her to fall forward onto the ground as he dragged her back towards him.

The girl used her stage voice to her advantage and belted out a scream that she knew could be heard for a long, _long_ way, fighting desperately against the strange strength of the splicer as he tried to pick her up.

Emmy could still hear the sickening sound of fists meeting the flesh of the young man trying to protect her as she fought frantically against the man holding her, trying to claw at him, slap him, kick him, punch him… _anything_…

"What the hell?"

Emmy felt herself being dropped so suddenly it caused her brain to fumble, her body to hitting the floor with a heavy thud. The girl felt the wind knocked from her lungs as the three splicers were suddenly backing up from the two victims on the dirty ground.

Something had stopped them but… What exactly?

Emmy rolled over with a dizzy groan, looking at the man that had ultimately saved her life.

His face was now misshapen and bloodied, his eyes unfocused as he panted through split, swollen lips.

His eyes met hers and held them in an intense gaze as she rolled over, their darkness still intimidating even in such a vulnerable, beaten state.

The girl felt her heart aching for this man who had so willingly defended her… And he had no idea who she was… She was a stranger to him and he still helped her.

And now his handsome face was broken and bloodied, the crimson dripping quickly from him and pooling under his head.

"Emmy! Hey!"

The girl turned her head slowly, wincing at the strange, dead weight in her brain that throbbed uncomfortably.

There stood Mr. Sinclair and Sullivan, accompanied by a few other men dressed in police uniforms who began to run quickly after the fleeing splicers.

Augustus rushed over to Emmy, helping her to stand slowly as she groaned from the pain in her head.

"What the hell are you doin' in Pauper's Drop sugar?" Mr. Sinclair asked with a bewildered look, holding the girl's face in his hands to get a look at her eyes. "Are you alright?"

As Emmy answered Sinclair's questions in slow, confused words Sullivan glanced over at the bloody mess that lay on the ground.

He walked over in slow, wary steps, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in observation as he studied the man on the ground. Although this kid's face seemed to be mashed in, Sullivan had a knack of remembering faces.

It was that Calloway kid…

"Ms. Rousseau, what happened to this man?" Sullivan asked, eyeing the large bloodied rock next to the bloodied man and piecing together the cause of his facial reconstruction.

"He… saved me…" The girl whispered in a slurred tone, obviously concussed from the fall.

Sullivan shot Sinclair a skeptical look over his shoulder before narrowing his eyes back at the half-conscious man in the pool of his own blood.

"Ah- Sullivan… I need to get this girl to a doctor… Can I get some assistance?" Sinclair's strained voice sounded from behind Sullivan as the girl slumped floppily in his arms, her eyes drifting closed.

Sullivan would indeed help but… first he had to take this Calloway kid in.

The way he saw it was that the girl was in confusion, thinking Calloway helped her—it happens all the time with assaults on broads. Besides, chumps who work for Fontaine don't go around saving damsels in distress.

He gathered that the girl had hit Calloway in the face with the rock—a lucky shot for a broad like her—but wasn't able to handle the splicers surrounding her.

Thus is when he and Sinclair entered the picture—originally heading over to the Sinclair Deluxe to escort some rowdy splicers from the premises—and she was dropped on her head.

Sullivan, although usually one to investigate more into the crime, didn't exactly trust this kid. He wasn't known for the best of reputations.

And he cared for Emmy; he didn't want some kid that messed with her to get away with it.

So as one of his men returned he nodded to Calloway on the ground, signaling for the obvious take of action.

Arrest.

* * *

Okay, since I know some people will call me out on these two things, I'll address them ahead of time.

YES I know I'm really super cheesy, sue me. I love singing and dancing. xD

And two, I know that I changed some of the lyrics to the song _Diamond's Are a Girl's Best Friend_.

I actually used a different version than Marilyn's and whoever knows what version I used gets a golden star.

That is all. 3


	12. Some Singer

_January 27th, 1958_

"Hmm…"

Dr. J.S. Steinman stared thoughtfully at the clipboard he held in his hands, tapping his fingernail habitually against the wood as he read the medical information on his more recent patient, Amelia M. Rousseau.

She had come in with Mr. Augustus Sinclair last night with a Grade 2 concussion and a wound in her leg that needed stitches.

Very simple of course, not exactly the most interesting of cases. But Augustus had said that he needed Dr. Steinman's expertise in the lack of leaving ugly scars.

This Amelia girl was a singer and a model it seemed, which required utmost beauty.

Of course, Steinman could most certainly see many improvements for the girl—larger breasts perhaps, more proportionate hips… Her bottom lip was a bit too large to match her top lip in his opinion, but men these days seemed to like the little… imperfections.

Which defeated the purpose of classic beauty entirely but… What was Steinman to do?

Actually, at the moment what interested him was her blood type…

B-… Quite a rare type. Perhaps a good opportunity to collect a sample of blood just in case of its need in a time of possible fatality. Rare blood types were always good to have in stock.

But then Steinman remembered that German scientist… Ten… Erm… Tenenbaum? Well she had requested a subject of the blood type B-, through the age of 18 through 25, female.

And here was the exact match, resting quietly in a hospital bed.

Steinman supposed he should send word to the weird little kraut of his discovery… Although… He _was _curious as to why she wanted a subject with such specific requirements.

Tenenbaum worked on those Little Sisters, funded by Fontaine of course. A very odd woman if you asked Steinman, but who was?

Perhaps these requirements had something to do with her studies… Which interested Steinman in the slightest, but his real concern was with his own work.

He supposed if he did a favor for the German then she might spare him one in the future. She was, admittedly, a very brilliant woman in her field. Perhaps he could work that to his advantage?

"Nurse."

Steinman kept his eyes on the file safely tucked in his clipboard as he heard the clicking of hallow heels behind him. "Yes Doctor?"

"Send word to Tenenbaum that I have those requirements she requested… Subject of age 20, female, with the blood type B-." The man ordered absently, reading over the girl's papers once more. "Oh, and also send her Amelia Rousseau's papers… She'll be interested in those too."

"Right away Dr. Steinman, will that be all?"

"Mm… No…" Steinman mumbled before turning to the short, attractive nurse at his side. "Collect a few blood samples from Ms. Rousseau. Give one to Tenenbaum and the rest will go in storage."

"Of course Dr. Steinman, I'll do that right now." The woman smiled as accordingly, bustling over to the sleeping girl dutifully.

Dr. Steinman smirked at the luck of the situation.

Only 4 days after Tenenbaum had sent out the information she required and she had already received a perfect match, down to the last detail.

Luck was certainly on that woman's side… that was for certain…

* * *

"Name?"

Leon glared at the man sitting at the desk in front of him as he stretched his shoulders absently, causing the handcuffs around his wrists to rub raw at his skin.

"_Name, _now."

"Leon Calloway." The young man snapped, earning a shake of the head from the man at the desk as he scribbled down said name on a piece of paper.

"Age?"

"26."

The man nodded as he continued writing Leon's information down, the two guards around the desk eyeing his swollen, bruised face in an accusing, critical sort of way.

"Okay… Cause of arrest?"

Leon narrowed his eyes darkly before snorting in irritation. "Not a _God damn thing_…"

The sudden sharp hit of a baton to his stomach caused Leon to cough and splutter loudly, unable to retaliate against the jail guard that had hit him as he panted.

"Cause of arrest?"

Leon managed to glance up at the guard holding the baton, the look in the large man's eye alerting him to the fact that if he didn't answer properly he'd be punished further—and that he probably wouldn't like it…

"Aggravated assault, sexual assault…" Leon croaked, wincing at the sound of the crimes.

Crimes he didn't commit and probably wouldn't for a million fuckin' years.

He wasn't sure if that Rousseau broad had ratted on him, it didn't seem like it at least. The last thing he heard from her mouth before he passed out was: "He saved me".

Which would make you think a cop would take as a good deed for God damn society. But instead, Sullivan arrested him on false counts.

Now Leon knew that he was a smart guy, but to think that he had predicted a shitty year the moment something shitty happened? That took some real psychic abilities.

Or maybe it didn't. Because everything bad happened to Leon when he tried to be nice.

The man made it a mental note to be real fuckin' nasty to every God damn pretty broad, nice guy, and old coot he saw. Maybe then he'd become the damn king of stupid fuckin' England.

"You're done… Next!"

* * *

Tenenbaum stared blankly at the little girls, her brown eyes watching as they laughed and poked fun at one another while stacking blocks into various buildings and castles… Childish games.

The girls' yellow eyes… disgusting. They fluttered around the room in awe, their vision altered to see a beautiful place instead of the room they actually resided in.

Brigid had never expected these little girls to act like children after the insertion of the ADAM slug. She had hoped they'd act like emotionless hosts, gathering ADAM in silent obedience like the Protectors.

But no, this was not the case for the little ones…

They still laughed and played… They sang and danced. Bonded with each other like little girls on a playground.

It was all so interesting to the Brigid.

The ADAM flowing in their tiny bodies made them indestructible. But it seemed not to affect their immaturity at all…

"Dr. Tenenbaum?"

The woman's brown eyes tore themselves away from the little girls on the other side of the glass, Tenenbaum turning to see her assistant smiling at her as he walked in with a manila folder in one hand and a biohazard bag in the other.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Steinman has just contacted me with unbelievable but fantastic news." The man replied, handing the folder over to his superior. "He's just found a host for the slug we've found, along with her medical records in Rapture thus far and a blood sample."

Tenenbaum's eyes widened as her heart jumped in the kind of excitement that made a rare grin spread over her face. "Es ist ein Wunder!" She exclaimed in her habit of falling back into German when excited.

"The subject's name is Amelia Rousseau, blood type B-, and age 20—as of January 26th."

"Who is she? Do you know of her?" Tenenbaum asked urgently, hoping desperately that she was a nobody. Someone that would disappear with no fuss.

"Ah… Well, that's the only problem." The man replied, his satisfaction faltering as he sighed. "She is quite famous around Rapture. She's a singer and a model, you might have seen her on Augustus Sinclair's ads? Or maybe performing at the Kashmir?"

Tenenbaum made a face, her eyes staring critically at her assistant as he chuckled awkwardly. "That's right… I sometimes forget your indifference towards pop culture."

"So she is in the public eye? Is she opposed to ADAM?"

"Hm, well according to… _these _health records from her recent visit to Dr. Steinman…" The young man fished through the folder quickly and pulled out a few papers and handed them to Tenenbaum. "She hasn't once even come in contact with ADAM. And from an interview with her that was in the Rapture Tribune, she claims that she's opposed to using it personally."

"Verdammt…" The woman hissed under her breath after scanning over this Amelia Rousseau's records, then tossing the records on her desk. "Typical. We find one in a million match and who is it? Some _singer_."

"Quite the obstacle…" The man at her side agreed as Tenenbaum sunk into her desk chair in front of the window overlooking the Little Sisters at play, his eyes studying the girls momentarily. "What about speaking with Mr. Sinclair?"

"Keh… As if Sinclair would part with money in the bank…" Tenenbaum scoffed, scrunching her nose at the thought of the situation. "It is useless with this girl in the public eye. We need someone who is… invisible."

"Well, shall I keep looking for a suitable host Doctor?"

Tenenbaum narrowed her eyes in thought as she tapped her foot, chewing on the inside of her lip as her assistant waited patiently.

"Mm, yes. But keep a very close eye on this Amelia Rousseau."

Tenenbaum didn't have to look to see that her assistant was blushing. No doubt this girl was an attractive one. Especially if Sinclair picked her up…

Men…

"Of course Doctor."

* * *

Before the girl had even opened her eyes she felt the pain throbbing in her head. The pain must've woken her up, otherwise she felt as if she could've slept for at least a few more days at least.

She didn't quite remember why exactly she was in this hospital bed, only the pain of being dropped onto the dirty concrete returned to the elusive edges of memory.

Emmy wasn't sure if she was relieved to have amnesia of her assault, for that's what she knew it must've been. She'd recalled attempting to walk out of Pauper's Drop after speaking with her parents… But after that it was hazy.

The girl squinted under the harsh fluorescents, rolling her head over on her pillow and turning to her side with a low groan.

Although the girl knew she hadn't been… sexually assaulted—girls knew when they'd slept with someone the night before, they could simply tell—she still felt violated.

These men, she guessed, were splicers. She could remember ADAM being spoken of by… someone. She couldn't quite recall that part.

Did she look like she had ADAM? Emmy certainly didn't think so.

It was quite insulting in her opinion.

Especially after one of the greater nights of her existence… Something like this just simply had to happen on the night of her birthday…

The girl wanted to cry and be terribly torn up over it, but for some reason she felt… Nothing but anger.

She was outraged that she'd been assaulted. Especially by the very people who were ruining Rapture's economy! Splicers… Couldn't Mr. Ryan, Sullivan, or _anyone_ do something about the ADAM issue in Rapture?

It seemed borderline outrageous that this was simply regarded as a normal crime! Genetically modified crazies running around attacking performers in the streets…

"Oh good, you're awake."

Emmy looked over with weak, sensitive eyes in the direction of the familiar warm voice, studying Augustus Sinclair's wide smile as he approached her bedside.

The girl briefly wondered exactly how haggard she looked at this point, but decided that she rightfully deserved to look such a way. Besides, what did she care? It wasn't technically still her birthday, but she was still allowed to look foul if she wanted to.

"You gave me a nasty scare there sugar…" The man chuckled as he sat down in the visitor's chair beside her hard cushioned bed, giving a quiet sigh as he patted her hand kindly. "You okay kid?"

"Mm…" Emmy hummed tiredly with a weak smile, closing her eyes and nestling her head back into the pillow. "I'm just fine I suppose, could be better though."

Augustus chuckled at the girl's weak voice, causing her smile to widen softly as he leaned comfortably back in his chair. "Its lucky ol' Sullivan and I got there when we did honey… Otherwise I'm afraid to say that your poor self would most likely be 6 feet under…"

Emmy simply nodded, keeping her eyes shielded from the fluorescent shine under her heavy lids.

"Ah… Listen kiddo, I hate to have to talk business with you when you've only just woken up, but…" The man sighed, the sound of his slacks rubbing together sounded in Emmy's sensitive, sore eardrums as he crossed his legs casually. "You definitely got lots of business comin' your way…"

Emmy wanted to sigh and grumble at Augustus to just leave her alone for a day. Of course she loved to work, as odd as that sounded.

Maybe because her work involved wearing diamonds and beautiful dresses, all the while having the most fun she could possibly have in a career singing. She did what she loved to do, and because of that she was fortunate.

But to say that it wasn't exhausting would be a flat-out lie.

"Firstly honey, you'll need to address the public—who's up in an awful fuss over you—and tell them it was nothin'. You know the works; Sinclair's Gal won't stay down for long…"

Emmy opened her scratchy eyes slowly and looked over at Sinclair as he continued on with her apparent new jobs she most likely had to do either today or tomorrow.

"Secondly, that Faber fella has taken a real shine to you. I'm sure you've noticed…"

Emmy narrowed her eyes in question momentarily at the man, wondering exactly how she was supposed to know that fact. She'd only truly talked to him once, and that was last night. And besides, a business deal was hardly a romantic attempt in the girl's eyes.

Even though she wouldn't very much mind catching the eye of the dashing Mr. Faber.

But when Augustus nodded pointedly to something towards the opposite side of the room, Emmy then realized that indeed Mr. Faber _had_ taken a liking to her.

Lining the counter-tops of the visiting table and desk that the hospital provided in each room were dozens and dozens of Violets and Roses that seemed to burst out of their vases, swollen with bright colors and velvet petals.

"Oh my…" Emmy breathed, her heart giving a leap as she sat up in her observation of the flowers.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Augustus chuckled, eyeing the faint pink that heated the girl's cheeks as her eyes lit up. "Although, after last night you have more admirers then you can handle, I'd say Faber is the most _admirable_ darlin', considerin' his record and all. Even though I'd prefer you single, I'd also prefer you happy. Cause I'm just real sweet like that."

Emmy gave her first laugh since her injury, the feeling instantly giving her a sense of awakening through-out her body.

"The point I was makin' doll is that Mr. Faber would love to have you doin' a few ads for Hop Up Cola. Which I happen to support. So you'll be scheduled for that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? So soon?" Emmy repeated, causing Sinclair to chuckle.

"When I find a good product I work it until its dry sweetheart… No offense to you of course."

Emmy nodded with a soft laugh, figuring as much from a business man of Sinclair's caliber. Of course he cared for the girl, but Emmy knew that she was a money making asset to his company. That's the whole reason he signed a contract for her to become publicly known as Sinclair's Gal.

She'd learned to take the inevitable realities of this business as gracefully as she could manage.

"And probably not last of all—seein' as the requests for you to do ads for certain companies have been raisin' through the roof since last night…" Sinclair sighed as he continued, a sort of satisfied smile slipping onto his lips. "Danny Wilkins from Ryan's Raiders has a birthday comin' up in March and he wants you to sing him Happy Birthday in front of everyone at his game that day. He was at your show last night and has taken a real interest in you."

Emmy recalled hearing something about Danny Wilkins from Diane. The blonde had giggled over how handsome this Danny apparently was. Supposedly he was a prodigy in sports. Unfortunately, he let this fact get to his head…

"He just wants me to sing him Happy Birthday?" Emmy smiled, feeling relieved to not have to put on a skimpy little 'Happy Birthday' show for the football star.

"Well…" Augustus shrugged, causing Emmy to raise an eyebrow. "He also said he wanted to see you at his games… Not every single one of course, but a fair few… It'd also be good for your relationship with Mr. Ryan, a prominent business man here as well sugar, as you know…"

"Right… Well that's fine, I can do that." The girl nodded with squinted, sensitive eyes. "I like football anyhow… What else is there for me to do?"

"Ah, a lot." Augustus chuckled, his eyes scanning over the girl's face thoughtfully before standing to his feet with a sigh. "But I'll bug you with that later honey; you just get back to your normal self. Doc says you can check out sometime this afternoon. Your blonde friend will be here to take you home safely."

Emmy smiled as the man leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, giving her cheek a pat before turning to leave the room.

"I'll pick you up at your apartment at… say, 8 o'clock tomorrow? Look real nice, you'll be giving a public announcement in the morning."


	13. Lab Rat

_January 28th, 1958_

Leon blinked foggily with the rude awakening of loud shouts outside his barred cell, turning over in his stuffy, stiff cot to observe what was going on.

Some inmate was being dragged roughly by two guards. The fella was thrashing violently in protest, as if he were being dragged to the gallows or somethin'.

"Get your GOD DAMN HANDS OFF ME!" The man shouted, his voice straining with the volume of his tone as he was yanked past all the cells.

Leon, in his slumber, had temporarily forgotten where he was…

Until the sight of the thick, black bars brought him back to reality… That and the uncomfortable, scratchy prisoner uniform that stuck hotly to his skin.

The young man sighed miserably, his face throbbing in a dull beat as he stared up at the ceiling above him.

Dirty and damp… just like this whole fuckin' place…

Leon had never been to prison before.

In his youth back in Jersey he'd gotten in trouble before, but he'd stayed smart enough to stay out of _too_ much trouble.

Maybe this was some kind of punishment for being a sly fucker. Maybe for all those times he'd narrowly escaped the law he was really just building a shit-tastic life in the God damned Utopia by the name of Rapture.

Either way he could tell that something about this jail was different then the ones back on the surface…

Something darker.

Leon had only been here half a day and a night and he'd already gouged this place out to be a scientist's pet shop.

Constantly there were people being taken from their cells, screaming and thrashing the whole way there. They'd always say stuff like, "I ain't your God damn test rat!" or "Fuck you scientist maniacs!"

He supposed word had spread to the inmates that they were free to be sold to the scientists of Rapture for whatever experiments they needed them for.

This only made Leon on edge every second of his time here…

He didn't want to die a helpless lab rat for some crazy, rich fuck. He _wouldn't_ die like that…

He just had to figure out a way to… escape? Escape to where?

Sometimes Leon forgot he was _underwater_…

Meaning, even if he were to escape, he'd have no way to go back up to the surface. He'd be stuck in Rapture, where everyone is watching you at all times…

It wasn't like the real world above the ocean, where some criminal could tunnel their way out of jail and escape to Peru or some shit…

The loud sound of the morning alarm shook the sleep from his eyes and heavy head, sounding obnoxiously like a fire alarm as all the jail cell doors opened in unison—spare the high security doors, which were bolted and locked shut.

"Alright you pansies, get up!"

The shuffle of feet and the groan of early morning curses echoed through-out the jail as Leon rolled off his cot obediently, standing to his feet and walking to the entrance of his cell.

This was routine he supposed, for the guards to wake up all the inmates in the morning, do a check of all the prisoners to make sure they weren't absent, and then shuffle them down to the cafeteria like cattle.

So Leon just stood still as the guards walked through his section of the cells, the guards looking at all his fellow inmates and observing their individual cells briefly before calling out "Secure!" to the warden.

"Cell block C! Inmate 457 absent!"

Leon raised an eyebrow, leaning forward and looking across the jail at Cell block C curiously. There was a slight murmur throughout the prison before the guards promptly silenced the inmates with harsh threats or hits with their batons.

Leon received the later of the two, the harsh poke of the wood shoving into his chest in a painful jerk, causing him to stumble backwards out of sight of Cell block C.

"Inmate 457… Ah, Charles Milton Porter? Hurry your ass up!"

Charles Milton Porter… Wasn't he that engineer fella?

The man had always wondered what happened to Mr. Porter. Didn't he build that fancy machine down in Minerva's Den?

How'd he end up in a place like Persephone? And as an inmate? That couldn't be right… Leon couldn't once remember reading about his arrest.

Leon wanted to look out to observe what was happening after the silence that ensued upon the guard's shout.

As he peaked around the bars he saw the warden speaking to the man holding the clipboard with the attendance sheet. He was whispering to the man in a hurried way, shaking his head in emphasis to his words.

"Ah… Nevermind." Leon heard the attendance man call out, followed by another loud alarm that signaled breakfast. "Hurry up ladies!"

* * *

Emmy smiled widely out at the flashing bulbs, hoping that she didn't look as nervous as she felt…

At the moment Emmy was supposed to announce to the public that she was fine and that the attackers had been brought to justice. Which was true for the most part, the girl still had a tad bit of a headache—and those damn flashes weren't exactly aiding said headache.

But the girl hadn't even remembered _who _her attackers were, much less if they had been truly arrested.

She supposed it wouldn't make a difference whether or not those men had been caught. There were still hundreds more like them in Rapture.

So the girl leaned forward towards the microphone, Augustus' arm around her waist admittedly calming her as she chuckled.

"I truly appreciate the concern of all the fine citizens of Rapture, especially those who have sent their best wishes. But there is no need for all this fuss." The girl winked for added effect, causing a solid hum of chuckles to travel through the crowd. "It was just a little incident with some out-of-control splicers who have been put to justice. Besides a little headache I'm just fine and dandy ladies and gentlemen. Sinclair's gal can't be held down. Turning 20 in Eve's Garden changes a girl's stamina, didn't you know?"

Just as Sinclair had predicted, there was a loud buzz of questions being thrown this way and that, some about her personal life and some about the event itself.

She had been told to answer a few questions, to come off as the sociable type when it came to reporters.

Emmy's eyes followed Augustus' point at one reporter who was waiting patiently for the people around him to quiet down. "Yes son?"

"I was just wondering, Ms. Rousseau, will this affect your performances around Rapture?"

Emmy paused, forgetting momentarily that _she_ was answering all the questions… She'd never done such a thing in her life—talk to the press that is.

She was still getting used to such things…

"Oh no, of course not. Singing is my passion; I won't let a little injury get in my way." Emmy smiled at the man, who in turn gave her a pleasant nod of thanks as the sounds of scribbling pens filled the room.

"Ms. Rousseau! Are you dating anyone at the moment?"

Emmy felt the blush on her cheeks but tried to play it off with a laugh, the image of Mr. Faber instantly popping into her head.

"I'm afraid not, but don't worry boys, I'm certainly on the prowl!" Emmy laughed merrily, causing many laughs and even some appreciative whistles to echo through the room.

Augustus seemed to approve greatly of her answer, giving her waist a squeeze as he winked out at the flashing lights. "If you'd like to schedule an interview with Ms. Rousseau then please contact me."

There were some loud questions being shouted from the crowd of reporters as more bulbs flashed, the crowd watching as Emmy and Augustus waved and retreated from the podium and into the sea of people.

"That was easier then I thought… kinda short." Emmy breathed in relief to Sinclair as the two made their way out of the public eye, Mr. Ryan taking Emmy's place at the podium and beginning to speak about the need for safe splicing in Rapture.

"See? I told ya doll, nothin' but smilin' and battin' those pretty eyelashes of yours. Now all that's left is your day with the dashin' Mr. Faber—as I'm sure _you're_ ready for…"

Emmy smirked at her friend, her arm linked in his as they walked through Farmer's Market towards Worley Winery.

"And why do you suppose that?"

"Oh I don't know…" The man sighed thoughtfully, causing the girl on his arm to laugh to herself. "Maybe because you've had that sparklin' eye of yours on Mr. Faber since the moment you met him. I don't miss those coy looks in his direction kid…"

"That's not true!" Emmy laughed brightly, causing Sinclair to grin slyly to himself. "For you information my dear Augustus, I'm not exactly lookin' for a man at the moment."

"_Sure_, who said you were?" The man nodded, causing the girl's smile to deepen and her cheeks to redden. "Just remember not to get too faint-hearted in such a man's presence."

"In whose presence?"

Emmy's heart gave a leap of surprise as she gasped, looking over her shoulder at the familiar smiling grey eyes that studied her in a lengthy way before settling on Augustus.

"Well God damn Mr. Faber, you're as quiet as an ant pissin' on cotton!" Augustus chuckled with a hardy shake of Randall's hand. "You always sneak up on business partners like that?"

"Sometimes." The man's smile widened as he shook Mr. Sinclair's hand, then settling his eyes on Emmy. "How are you feeling?"

Emmy couldn't help the little giddy butterflies that nipped at her stomach upon Mr. Faber's hand resting on her shoulder with concern written so plainly on his face.

"I'm feeling just… _fantastic_." The girl breathed with a little chuckle, feeling the playful air of a growing flirtatious need floating around her brain.

The girl had always been a flirt. In high school she had her fair share of admirers for it as well.

It'd been so long since she had batted her eyelashes at a suitable man in her sight of interests. She flirted with Augustus of course, but that was simply for sport.

And Mr. Ryan? Well, she'd done so before knowing of his true nature.

But Randall Faber was a different case. This was a bona fide, handsome man who apparently had his interest set upon her. Although he didn't seem to be the flirtatious type, being a regal sort of man, it sure would be a ball to have her fun with him.

Innocently of course… who could it hurt?

"Thank you for the flowers; I can't imagine how much thought you put into such a thing Mr. Fa-… Randall. I truly appreciate it."

"I had to show my concern for your well being somehow." The man chuckled. "I'm not a very outspoken man when it comes to such emotions."

Emmy smiled slowly at the kind nature of this man, ignoring Augustus' smirk that was burning a hole in her cheek. "I see…"

"Well doll, I gotta split." Augustus suddenly cut in on the cow-eyed stare contest between the two younger companions.

Emmy looked over upon the sound of the man's voice, making a slight face as he shook Randall's hand in goodbye. "You're not staying?"

"No sugar I'm not, business to attend to." He smiled, giving her arm a little reassuring squeeze. "But you're the model, not me. I'm sure you can do this by yourself. I might see you later today, alright?"

Emmy smiled slowly before giving an understanding nod, watching as the man began to take his leave.

Upon Mr. Sinclair's absence Emmy instantly felt the shyness overcome her, eyeing Randall as he smiled thoughtfully at her.

"He's right you know, you don't have to do much besides stand there and it will look beautiful."

Emmy looked up into the man's grey eyes with a small smile on her lips, the little butterflies fluttering into over-time as she attempted to sigh them away—in vain of course.

"Well you're just full of nice things to say, aren't you Randall?" Emmy teased with a demure smile as the photographers set up in the background, arguing amongst each other about what kind of lighting to use… or something like that.

But Emmy didn't quite notice…

"When it comes to you I am, I'm your biggest fan after all." The man smiled in an almost shy sort of way. Emmy supposed that was what he meant by being reserved with inner feelings. "And, speaking of which… I was wondering…"

Emmy fought the urge to smile as she leaned against the register counter of the winery, eyeing the man from under the netting of her hat.

"After the photo shoot I feel my need to repay you with a dinner, compliments of my appreciation." Randall smiled slowly, his eyes studying the hint of pink that heated the girl's cheeks. "How does that sound?"

"Ms. Rousseau! They're ready for you in wardrobe!"

Emmy glanced over Mr. Faber's shoulder briefly and gave an understanding nod to the photographer before turning her eyes back on the man before her.

"That's sounds just perfect… What time?"

The man seemed to let a breath go that he was holding in discreetly, his smile widening into that familiar expression of boyish qualities. "8 O'clock."

Emmy pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep a childish, giddy smile of her own from reaching her mouth, instead giving the man a pointed look of interest before brushing past him. "8 it is then…"

* * *

"Leon Calloway!"

Dark eyes looked up at the sudden loud address, the young man's arm reaching up and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

He narrowed his gaze as he eyed the jail guard accompanied by none other then Augustus Sinclair himself, studying Leon in a serious look of pronounced dislike.

"Uh, yeah?"

The guard nodded to Sinclair before beckoning Leon over with a wave of his hand. "Boss wants to speak privately with you. Hurry up."

Leon looked around at the inmates that hushed mumbles amongst each other, eyeing Leon in a pitying sort of way as they continued with their exercises.

Leon slowly set down the weights in his grip and stood up from the bench he sat at, wiping the sweat from his hands on his baggy black and white jumpsuit before following the jail guard and Sinclair obediently.

He got the strong feeling that Sinclair did not like him… and since Sinclair owned Persephone…? Well, that wasn't too good for him; he could tell that from the way the older man glared at him.

He supposed he was being brought to the man's office to be told off or worse, be treated like shit the entirety of his stay here.

Which, for as far as Leon could tell, was the rest of his God damn life…

But hey, from Sinclair's stand point, Leon would be pissed to.

Some poor shit-head messin' with the money-making machine that is Amelia Rousseau would be real upsetting. Especially on her birthday with the rise of her fame to keep in mind.

So as Leon was pushed roughly into a room that was very obviously not Sinclair's office—in fact, quite the opposite, looking as if he were in some kind of operating room—he began to feel a twisting in his gut.

Augustus' long glare didn't exactly help either, made even _worse_ by the guards standing against the far wall with large guns in their hands.

Finally, after roughly a good solid minute, the man spoke. "You're a real class act dumbshit, you know that kid?"

Leon blinked as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, finding it hard to meet Sinclair's stare.

"Yup."

"You try to hurt my girl on the night of her birthday?" The man snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he tilted his head to the side. "You're lucky she came out of that ordeal okay, otherwise you would've gone straight to the ropes sport."

Leon felt odd, being told off by one of the more powerful business men of Rapture. Especially when he'd actually been _protecting_ his 'girl', not trying to hurt her.

He'd spent the majority of his time since first seeing this girl thinking about her, in the kindest of ways of course. Because Leon was a nice fuckin' guy.

But of course, somehow, he managed to get screwed over for doing his society a good deed.

"Listen Sin-… _Mr_. Sinclair, despite what Sullivan has told you, I didn't try to hurt her. I was tryin' to _help_ her."

"Yeah, yeah… That's kinda hard to believe when you got a record like yours breathin' down your neck…" Sinclair replied, causing Leon to sigh. "Now, I suppose it would count as unfair to treat you differently on the account of your crime… But the fact that you tried to hurt that girl, who I know to be the innocent of sorts, well… that really upsets me. As I'm sure you can understand…"

Leon gave a sharp nod, trying to keep the irritation and anxiety from reaching his face as he leaned against the dormant, clean operating table.

"But I'm not gonna send you to the gallows or nothin' like that… no, I believe you're suited for a different purpose, beneficial to society—if you would consider it that."

Leon looked up slowly in confusion, his dark eyes scanning over the bitterly amused expression on Sinclair's face as he gave a sigh.

"I doubt you've ever heard of Failsafe Armored Escorts Mr. Calloway, have you?"

Leon's brow drew together in question, watching Mr. Sinclair as a slow smile spread over his face.

"No, can't say I have."

"I didn't think you would…" The man sighed, stretching his neck absently as he eyed Leon carefully. "Well, you will soon. You'll be moved to a different… detention facility, I suppose you could say. I'm tellin' you in advance because I'd like you to think over your crimes long and hard before you enter a hell that's far fouler then _I _could _ever _make for you…"

* * *

Double post because I've been absent for a while and they're both short but significant chapters.

Much love, my lovely readers.

(DON'T KILL ME)


	14. He's Gone

_February 27th, 1958_

The loud, smooth trumpet soothed through the dim club as caramel eyes locked with grey, a knowing gaze passing between the two as the girl breathed in a deep lungful.

"Sweet dreams 'till sunbeams find you… Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you… But in your dreams, whatever they be_…_" The girl's voice rang through-out the room in a beautiful echo, the band behind her playing in perfect unison with her notes. "Dream a little dream of me_…_"

Emmy didn't bother to take her eyes off of Randall even after the applause had erupted through the Kashmir, giving a small bow before retreating from the stage after the last song of her set that night.

It'd been a month since Emmy's public announcement to the people of Rapture... and a month since her first date with Randall Faber.

During that month a whirlwind had come at Emmy, sweeping her off her feet with complete bliss.

Emmy had, somehow, become the 'face of Rapture's entertainment' as Sinclair had put it. Bumping Sander Cohen off his throne apparently… But, again, this was only said from Sinclair. Who was known to be eccentric with his speech…

Her poster-ads for not only Sinclair's products, but Randall's, the Kashmir, various other businesses in Rapture, and even for Dandy Dental—representing a Dandy Dental smile—were plastered all over Rapture. Quite the strange thing to see when walking through the streets…

She had become quite famous she supposed, being recognized by the citizens of Rapture on her outings with Diane or Mr. Sinclair.

There had been requests all over the city for her to perform at parties, birthdays, events, clubs… everything Emmy had always wanted, it seemed, had begun to form in that one short month…

She supposed coming out in a bang as she had—performing a scandalous number at a strip club—was what she needed to make an impression that she was indeed here to stay.

But, on a note other then her business life, Emmy felt herself falling very quickly for Mr. Randall Faber.

Over this month they'd had a total of 20 or so outings, both with friends and alone with just the two of them to enjoy each others company.

The girl wasn't sure if the majority of those outings were considered dates… She knew the two of them weren't together exclusively.

Merely friends with dating benefits… and kissing benefits she supposed…

Augustus, of course, didn't _forbid_ her from doing so, but he simply told her to keep her relationship a secret from the public. Which Emmy agreed to, surprisingly enough.

She would've expected to want to make a relationship—or whatever it was she had with Randall—public. But upon experiencing fame and the constant public eye, she wasn't sure if she wanted the entirety of Rapture in her business.

So the girl contented herself with the evening's agenda; which was going back to Randall's apartment in Mercury Suites.

A simple, _private_ dinner date… Nothing more.

Emmy could feel the excitement from the tips of her toes tingling all the way up into the pit of her chest at just the thought of it…

"Oh Emmy, you really do need to sing for me at my birthday…" Diane smiled at her brunette friend as she plunked herself down in the empty seat between the blonde and Mr. Faber.

"I'll sing the entire month of your birthday." Emmy grinned at her friend, fanning the heat of the spotlights from her face as she sipped at the cool champagne in front of her.

"Oh I know you would…" Diane chuckled, patting her friend's hand affectionately. "It would keep me company… Lord knows I need it."

Emmy glanced apologetically at her friend in the most discreet of ways, knowing full well that Diane was truly in need of company as of late.

Because of none other then Mr. Andrew Ryan, of course…

"Well, you call me whenever you want me to start singing, and I will." Emmy smiled, leaning over and giving her friend a kiss on the cheek before hooking her arm in Randall's. "Go home Diane…"

Lately Diane had resorted to drinking herself stupid to numb the stubborn pain of being ignored by the man she blindly loved.

"Yeah, I will…" The blonde mumbled, giving a stiff smile as she swirled the champagne around in her glass.

Emmy eyed her for a moment longer before retreating from the club with Randall, the simple contact of his warm arm on hers making her giddy like some stupid school-girl.

And as they walked, as charming as he always was, Randall leaned down and brushed his lips discreetly against the girl's ear. "You were fantastic, as always…"

Emmy glanced from the corner of her eye at the man on her arm, giving him a little curve of a smile before squeezing his arm closer to her side.

* * *

"Come on big guy, you don't scare me!"

Dark blue eyes watched unflinchingly as a large, screeching drill slammed into the splicer's chest, the metal tearing into its flesh and splattering blood over the walls around it before the large monster threw the body against the far wall dismissively.

Its loud groan echoed through the halls of the Proving Grounds as more splicers ran screaming at the large metal man.

The Protector didn't seem to break a sweat as he threw the bodies out of his way like mere feathers, his brute strength causing them to slam into the ground and embed themselves into walls.

"He's very good… and so early into training…" Mr. Ryan mumbled to himself as he watched the latest subject in the Alpha series line drilling a bold splicer into the stone wall to his left. "So what is it, exactly, that seems to be the problem Gil?"

Gil Alexander winced at the blood that splashed onto the one-way mirror they looked through, opening his mouth to speak as he watched the Subject stomp on the head of a knocked down splicer like a melon.

"Ah… Well, he's not forming a bond with the Little Sisters… Not whatsoever, it's very strange…"

"Mm, I see…" The dark man nodded, narrowing his eyes at the unfortunate situation.

A Protector obviously very gifted in the art of combat, perfectly fit to guide a Little Sister… But with the inability to bond with any of the girls… Quite the obstacle…

"I thought none of the others had formed bonds as of yet…"

"Well, that's true Mr. Ryan—," Gil winced at the gurgled scream from a splicer upon the crushing of it's neck in the hands of the Protector. "But Subject Delta has shown promising results in bonding with one Little Sister in particular, so I believe it'll only be a matter of time before he is completely in sync with the girl."

"Interesting…" Mr. Ryan mused, raising his eyebrow as a thrown splicer slammed into the glass in front of him, causing Gil to jump in shock. "Well Gil… If you don't think this Subject will bond with a Little Sister then what shall we do about him? It'd be a waste of his skill…"

"That's true… I suppose." Gil chuckled nervously as he watched the Subject stand still, having either scared off all the splicers or dismembered them in one way or another. "But I believe that perhaps this Subject is still clinging to past thoughts of consciousness… Perhaps there is a… oh, I don't know, an _etch _somewhere in his brain that is still protesting. He _was_ rather dramatic when taking him into the transformation process…"

Andrew thought on that for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the subject as it groaned that strange, whale-like sound, causing an echo to sound through the Proving Grounds.

"Who is this Subject…?"

"Oh, he is Subject Zeta. I believe formerly named…" Gil looked down at the clipboard in hand. "Ah, Leon Calloway? I'm not quite sure, but Mr. Calloway _was_ in the Failsafe Armored Escort program."

"He was from Sinclair's detention facility?"

"Yes, he was arrested on crimes of assault. Why do you ask?" Gil nodded, looking curiously over at Mr. Ryan's calculating expression.

"No particular reason, curiosity I suppose." The man shrugged. "However, I'd like for you to keep him in training and widen his array of plasmids. He's very promising, a Protector for someone special perhaps."

"Of course Mr. Ryan… Shall I continue in my attempts to bond him with a Little Sister?"

Andrew thought this over for a moment, wondering whether he should allow this Protector—obviously one of the more violent ones—out into public…

The Protector-Gatherer situation was already going to upset the people of Rapture… Perhaps one a tad too quick to kill would be unwise to release among stupidly curious people…

"I suppose, but don't make it your main priority. Concentrate more so on the Subjects _able_ to bond."

* * *

Emmy couldn't hold back the giggle that erupted from her throat upon the sound of the dishes and cups clanking loudly to the floor.

She could feel Randall's lips slowly curling into a smile against her's upon their clumsiness, stepping forward closer to the girl as he ran his hands along the sides of her waist.

"Shouldn't we, uh, clean that up?" Emmy fought to speak with the speeding of her breathing as the man in front of her leisurely brushed his lips along her jaw, down her neck, along her collarbone…

He simply grunted in reply, apparently replying 'no' in some kind of unintelligible way, and lifted Emmy easily up into his arms.

The two had only been 20 minutes into dessert when Emmy couldn't help herself anymore. She had kissed him abruptly while he was still chewing a strawberry, causing him to laugh and almost choke on said strawberry.

It would've been awkward under any other circumstances, but not for Emmy and Randall. He never missed a beat, encircling his arm around her neck and pulling her into his side in the midst of kissing in a slow, luxurious manner.

It was the heat and excitement of a fresh relationship that made them so desperate for physical contact. That and they hadn't slept together yet.

For as innocent as Emmy knew she seemed, she was still a woman with needs. She'd lost her virginity when she was 16, to her boyfriend at the time.

Over the years it had become a lot more enjoyable, fun even—with the right man. She wasn't so old-fashioned as she probably came off once before.

There was something about Randall that made her want to have… _fun_ with him.

Most likely his looks and his charms—coupled with a wonderfully sweet personality, it paired for a romping good time.

But the girl was still a lady… she took it slow at first…Until it became _unbearable_.

Diane, being the only one besides Augustus that knew about her and Mr. Faber, approved highly of the relationship.

She had gone on and on about how right she had been, that she _knew _Emmy would go for Randall the moment she saw the two meet, and how smart she was for predicting such a good match.

Emmy saw her relationship with this man as fun and light. Not to say she wouldn't like settling down with him, he was a wonderful man, truly.

But she wanted to take a relationship in terms of _titles_ slow… She'd only just moved to Rapture 2 months or so ago. She didn't want to be immediately tied to one man in her time of experimentation.

So she counted Randall as an _experiment_ as the two fell back on his soft bed, a small, contented smile spreading over her lipstick-smeared lips.

Said lipstick now staining Randall's lips as he pealed the sky blue dress off the girl's body, tossing it aside with a satisfied smile as he observed the half-naked girl beneath him. "I like these…" He mumbled, brushing his fingers along the waistband of the girl's panties.

"I like this." Emmy snorted gleefully as she pressed a finger to his red lips, biting her lip as he grinned in question.

The man looked down at the red smear on the girl's finger, shaking his head as he leaned his face down in her chest, which shook merrily with her laughter.

"It's your fault, my dear…" His deep voice rumbled from somewhere in the pillow of her breasts, but she didn't really feel the need to apologize. Not for something as wonderfully adorable as that.

"I think a little rouge would look good too… and maybe some diamond earrings-,"

The girl's laughter only grew louder with the lips that attempted to hush her, the grin still planted firmly on Randall's face as he kissed the girl for distracting purposes.

Until, that is, she felt a certain undergarment sliding off her hips, down her legs, and falling to the floor.

Then the girl felt the reality of the moment spring back upon her, making a heavy blush coat her cheeks as the man above her smiled smugly.

"That's not fair." The girl sighed, eyeing his fully clothed body with narrowed eyes. "Why am I naked first?"

"Was that a dreaded event?" Randall chuckled quietly, being a gentlemen even in the heat of the moment and not looking down at the bottomless portion of the girl's body.

"Of course not." Emmy smiled, lifting a stocking-clad leg and winding it around the man's left hip casually. "It'd be more _even _however, if _you _were getting undressed too…"

Randall smiled slowly down at the beautiful girl, his eyes scanning over her dilated bright eyes, flushed cheeks, smeared lipstick, and fanned out milk chocolate curls over the pillows of his bed.

A messy vision of beauty that made his heart swell contently…

"Ah… Alright then." The man nodded, giving the girl a fleetingly kiss on her full lips before leaning up on his knees between the girl's thighs.

In one quick motion he slipped the buttons of his white, long-sleeved shirt open, pulling it off his shoulders and tossing it to the side.

Emmy watched him carefully, having already seen him semi-shirtless before, but still pausing to admire his masculine torso briefly.

Up to this point all that's been done is… heavy petting, as Emmy supposed you could call it.

But it had all been anticipation for this moment, and Emmy could feel the excitement rumbling in her stomach.

So as the man leaned back down, settling his body carefully on top of hers, Emmy leaned into his kiss in the kind of full hearted passion that sent both participants panting from the heat.

* * *

The girl didn't know how many times she had gone to this apartment during the past weeks…

She didn't know much about anything anymore…

Georgia tried to convince herself that Leon was okay, that he was just… on a vacation.

He'd come back to his apartment any day now and they'd be back together again. He was fine.

_He was fine_…

The girl's sore, watery brown eyes scanned over the empty apartment, the door kicked down and splintered—probably from some splicers looking for hypos…

Georgia wouldn't let herself think about all the disappearances in Rapture lately… She knew Leon hadn't been taken away like all the others. Maybe he'd just moved apartments.

Maybe he was in a different part of Rapture.

But not taken to Persephone, not killed by Ryan or Fontaine… He was safe.

The girl felt the tears running down over her marred, greasy cheeks, the hair that clung around her face stringy and dirty from weeks of not washing it.

She was pitiful and disgusting, and she knew it…

Maybe… maybe if she saw Leon she'd get better.

Maybe if he glared at her in that way he always used to… If she could hear him curse like a sailor… Or the way he'd sigh in his sleep…

She felt her hands shaking at her sides as she willed herself to step into the familiar apartment, her lips aching in strain as they trembled.

She could still see Leon in the kitchen, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his shirt off as he looked for the cream to put in his coffee, on the work days he had to get up at 5... She could hear the coffee rumbling in the pot and smell the beans from the bed… And she could hear his bare feet slapping against the ground as he walked.

She could… still feel the way he kissed her—back before she got into ADAM.

She knew he didn't love her or anything close to it, but he kissed her in the way a man _should _kiss a woman… So unlike his hard, blunt nature—his kisses were soft and slow.

She could feel the sheets tangled around her in the mornings, long after he had left for the fishery… long after he'd paid her.

He trusted her enough to leave her alone in his apartment. To lock up after she left and leave the spare under the mat, where it'd always been…

Georgia sunk to the ground before she even reached his bedroom, the tears leaving her fast and hard in heart wrenching sobs.

She could even remember what he smelt like…

Mostly like fish, and mostly like sweat…

But when he'd just come out of the shower, washing all the grime of a day's work from his skin, he smelt like… Leon.

Warm and solid, like green grass in summer time, when it heats up in the rays of the sun.

Like New Jersey, the cigarette smoke and the fog…

Like the old leather jacket he constantly wore…

She crawled along the spotless floor until she couldn't move, sprawling out on the wood as the snot, tears, and spit mixed into a sick puddle beneath her mouth, the sobs silent now as she dug her finger nails into the wood.

He's dead… he's _gone_…

He left her all alone; she has no one… Nothing but ADAM.

ADAM, ADAM, _ADAM_. That's what made her life like this…

The one thing that didn't reject her, _ruined_ her instead. It took away her looks, her sanity, her love, her _life_…

If she… If she hadn't done ADAM in the first place, then she would still be with Leon.

He wouldn't have disappeared, and he would be safe.

The girl couldn't take it anymore.

Her heart ached so badly she felt as if it would burst. She only hoped it would… She didn't want to live if Leon wasn't alive anymore.

For as harsh as Leon acted, he was a _good_ person… He tried so hard to get her to stop splicing. She knew...

She knew how hard it must've been for him to come and confront her about it, because Leon was always so scarce when showing true emotions.

But Leon cared when nobody else did, even if he didn't care in the way she wanted…

All the things he's done for her… Supplied her with a steady pay for the years she's been in Rapture, gave her a place other then the Pearl to sleep at, and a chance at quitting ADAM with his support…

And now he was dead… _dead_…

The girl rolled over onto her back, wincing at the soreness in her body from lack of ADAM use.

But as she lay on her back she felt something crumple beneath her, like… a piece of paper.

Georgia rolled off the piece of paper with a sniff, swallowing back the snot that rose in her mouth as she looked down at the picture in her hands.

There was a picture of that Sinclair Girl, smiling widely in a little pink dress that only reached her thighs and cut low on her chest, posing in a saucy sort of way.

Underneath the picture it said in bold, stylistic letters: "_Come see Sinclair's Gal at Eve's Garden for her Spectacular Birthday performance_!"

Georgia narrowed her eyes at the beautiful girl on the poster, her wet eyes then reading the messy scrawl that could only be Jerry's.

_Got you a seat to view your girlfriend's show! Yes, I'm the nicest bastard you know! You owe me!_

Girlfriend…?

Georgia felt shaking rage roll over her in a heavy kind of way, making her teeth clench so hard she almost felt like they would crack.

So _that's_ why that son of a bitch didn't want her anymore…

It wasn't because of ADAM. It was because of this _floozy_! This… _slut_…

This _horrible_, _foul_ girl had taken Leon… Taken Georgia's Leon away… That's why he was gone!

This girl had hidden him away! So Georgia couldn't have him!

Georgia felt her jaw pop in strain as she rose to her feet immediately, cramming the small poster in her pocket before storming out of the apartment.


	15. Pregnancy

_February 28th, 1958_

Randall sighed, quickly arranging his tie in the standard knot he'd always had it in for the past 20 years as he sat on the edge of the disheveled bed.

His dark eyes scanned over his still, quiet apartment in a calculating manner, feeling as if something was out of place…

Of course, he _did_ feel content; any man would be after such a… _interesting _night.

But… Somehow he felt so very old.

He was only 33, but sleeping with that lively sprite of a 20 year old made him feel 90 at the least.

The man's dark gray eyes glanced behind him at said slumbering woman tangled in his sheets, her pale leg hanging off the bed as she breathed in and out peacefully in the rippling lights of the ocean from the window beside the bed.

Her hair was messy and spread out like a fan over the large, fluffy pillow beneath her head. Her face was in a cute little pout of sleepiness, her lips puckered from the position her cheek had against the pillow.

Randall had truly fallen fast for this girl… From the moment he saw the light that radiated from her smile, she had caught his utmost attention.

She was a light in the darkness of a falling empire, one that Randall slowly but surely felt crashing down around _him_ in particular.

Although his business with Hop Up Cola had been an immense success at the beginning of his time in Rapture, it was now slowly simmering in the growing times of strife.

Nobody wanted cola anymore apparently, only ADAM…

Andrew Ryan had suggested to Randall that he get into the plasmid business while he had the chance… but…

Randall wasn't quite sure if he wanted to associate himself with ADAM in the first place.

He didn't quite support the use of the drug, so he didn't see himself sponsoring it anytime soon—for as foolish of a business move that was…

But this girl had been what he needed to distract himself from the stress of his business, and all the other failing businesses in Rapture.

She was bright, carefree, and bubbly. Like a refreshing glass of champagne on a warm summer day… That was what he felt like when he was around her…

He had tried to take any romantic interests slow ever since his divorce from Josephine. But… that was before he came to Rapture, back when he lived in New York.

He loved Josephine with all he had… but, it simply hadn't worked out in the end.

She was always in the studio, acting and out at parties and such… And he was always at the office working.

They had grown apart, and she met someone else she loved. An actor from the set she was working on…

Since then he felt as if he should take some time away from romance and concentrate on his new life in Rapture.

But perhaps with this new life he deserved a new love?

Randall smiled slowly to himself as the girl sighed in her sleep, her face scrunching up as if she had an itchy nose before smoothing out contently.

The man didn't exactly feel as if leaving this girl alone was very honorable… He didn't want her to think he was running away before she had time to wake…

But, perhaps he was over thinking things. The girl had told him that their relationship, if it was one of course, was to be kept secret. She had been told so by Sinclair.

So, he simply leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her bare calf, slipping his black blazer over his shoulders as he quietly walked out from the bedroom and through the front door, sparing the girl one last glance before heading to his office.

* * *

"Jesus Christ! Ow!"

Jerry glared darkly up at the woman as she hit him hard in his sore shoulder, her strength increased by her excessive splicing no doubt.

He sure felt the God damn power in that hit too… the crazy broad...

"What's your problem Georgie? This is how you greet your old pal?" The man snapped as he leaned back against the damp wall of his room in the poorhouse.

Georgia ignored the man's questions, instead searching through her coat pocket and yanking out the now crumpled, dirty poster she had found in Leon's empty apartment.

"What's this supposed to mean you bastard?" She growled, shoving the paper in the older man's face.

Jerry narrowed his eyes at the poster, scanning over its contents briefly before glancing at Georgia accusingly. "Where'd you get that?"

"Doesn't matter!" The girl snapped shrilly, the itch for a hit traveling up and down her arms, tingling sharply under her dirty, blood-caked fingernails. "Who's this skanky dolly that you referred to as Leon's _girl_?"

"She's some singer Leon had the hots for! Shit Georgie…What's your deal?" Jerry sighed, yanking away from the woman's grip on his dirty shirt. "You come to see me just for this?"

"No, I wanna know where Leon is too! With her?" Georgia asked with an accusing glare, poking her finger sharply at the smiling face of Sinclair's Gal.

"I've been wonderin' the same thing… what makes you think _I_ know where that dumb shit is?" Jerry plunked down onto his messy bunk bed, glancing up at the girl standing over him before shrugging. "Last time I saw him he'd run into that Sullivan cat, got messed up by some plasmids… He was under investigation you know."

"Oh…" Georgia swallowed slowly, sitting down across from Jerry on a random bunk bed. "No, I didn't know that…"

Jerry looked up from staring at his calloused hands, reaching up and hooking his fingers around the bar of the upper bunk bed in a stretch.

"So I'm guessin' you hadn't been hangin' around him much either huh?"

"Nu-uh…" The girl shook her head in reply, chewing on her lip to distract herself from the growing irritation in her arm. "He's been avoidin' me like the fuckin' plague… Last time I saw him was in January, on… the 26th or somethin'…"

Jerry's eyes squinted at the familiar date that certainly rang a bell in his slowly chugging mind, snatching the poster from the girl's grimy hands and studying it quickly. "Hey!"

"Look, this girl's birthday party was on the 26th, Leon went to that you know." Jerry pointed to the date on the advertisement, the girl's brown eyes studying it in confusion.

"So what?"

"So… Didn't you hear what happened to that broad after her show at Eve's Garden?" Jerry studied the girl's expression, eyeing the impatient look in irritation. "She got harassed by some guy down in The Drop."

Georgia's brow furrowed in concentration, trying to decipher out what point Jerry was trying to get across before he got frustrated. But… what the hell does this stupid girl's birthday have to do with Leon's disappearance?

"_Come on_…" Jerry rolled his eyes at the girl's dullness, pointing in emphasis at the date. "You saw Leon on the night of the 26th right? _Well_, where did you see him?"

"In… Pauper's Drop."

"Right!" Jerry exclaimed, licking his dry lips as he leaned closer to the girl in a hushed tone. "Don't you think it's strange that he disappears the night that girl got messed with, being in the same place she was at the time? Especially when he's been obsessin' over her?"

Georgia slowly pieced together the explanation, looking at Jerry's wide eyes and his twitchy knee—obviously he thought he was some kind of damn genius, which was why he was so excited…

"You think _Leon _did that to the girl? Come on Jerry, you know Leon as good as I do." Georgia sighed, pushing the poster away from her face. "Leon's a gentleman… kinda."

"I didn't mean _he_ hurt her." Jerry rolled his eyes dismissively. "I _mean_, what if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got accused of messin' with her… You know what happens to anybody who fucks with Ryan's inner circle these days… they _disappears_."

Georgia's eyes widened at the _actual_ probability of Jerry's words, looking down at the girl with sharply concentrated eyes before pointing with a gasp.

"Yeah! I saw her! At the phone booths in The Drop, she was a few phones down from me!" Georgia exclaimed. "So… what does that mean? Leon's… dead? Or in jail?"

Jerry sighed, giving a defeated shrug as he ran his fingers through his hair slowly. "Eh, I dunno… It's just a guess, you know? But I kinda doubt Leon would avoid the both of us for a month. He hasn't been into work at all, so…"

Georgia scraped her long finger nails against the dry, sore skin of her arm, the nagging need to splice becoming more and more incessant…

But… she knew she had to look more into this. Splicing would have to wait…

If Leon had been arrested or… killed, then she had to investigate. She'd go to Persephone.

You were allowed to visit prisoners there right?

The girl stood up quickly, yanking the poster from Jerry's hands as she made her way towards the door.

"Hey! Where you goin'?"

Georgia glanced over her shoulder, studying Jerry's misshapen face with a twist of a frown. "Persephone."

* * *

Emmy looked around her briefly as she walked through the entrance of Arcadia, studying the various people observing the flowers, speaking to each other, smiling, laughing.

Arcadia was a beautiful place to retreat to… But, Emmy felt slightly guilty coming here so often… Especially when others could not afford it.

But Emmy came here _specifically_ for Jasmine Jolene today—unlike the usual purpose, which was for relaxation. Which she figured counted as a selfless act.

The brunette had awoken that morning alone. It was a blissful sleep, but it probably would've been bettered by waking up to Randall at her side.

But she could understand why he left, he had business… It wasn't as if this was a one night stand…

Whatever the case, Emmy promptly—and discreetly—left his apartment at 9:30, immediately returning home for a day of relaxation in the confines of her own apartment.

Today was the one day out of months of working that she had no meetings scheduled, no photo shoots, no performances, no radio appearances… Just a deliciously lazy Sunday…

But, as soon as Emmy had arrived in her apartment, her phone began to ring.

She considered momentarily simply not answering, letting it ring out until the person eventually quit trying to rouse her from relaxation.

But ultimately Emmy's conscience told her that it could be an upset Diane or Sinclair with important news…

So, she'd answered it. But it turned out to be neither, but instead Jasmine Jolene.

A very distressed sounding Jasmine Jolene who told Emmy that she needed to speak with her right away, and asked if she would meet her at Arcadia in the Tea Garden.

Jasmine was Emmy's good friend, despite Diane's dislike of the woman. So Emmy of course, agreed.

And now here she was, walking through the flowers and grass to the table at which her beautiful blonde friend sat, her blue eyes concentrated blankly on the ceramic table top.

"Phew…" Emmy sighed as she plopped down into the seat across from Jasmine, causing her companion to jump in surprise at the sudden arrival. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting Jasmine, I missed the first express out."

"Oh, it's alright Emmy." Jasmine mumbled as another tea cup was set in front of Emmy, a fresh steaming kettle also placed in the middle of the stylish table.

Emmy glanced up at Jasmine's rigid expression curiously as she poured the boiling water into her tea cup, tilting her head to the side as the blonde sighed.

"Ah, Jasmine? Is everything alright?"

Jasmine looked up from her aimless staring, her normally bright eyes down-turned in a kind of very obvious worry… or sadness?

Emmy couldn't quite tell which was more prominent in those clear blue depths…

"Well… Uh…" The woman sighed, leaning her chin in her hand dejectedly as she furrowed her brow in thought. "No…"

"What's wrong?" Emmy leaned forward in her seat, the concern for her friend settling uncomfortably in her chest as she studied the pained expression on a usually smiling face. "Did something happen at Eve's Garden?"

"No, no… Nothing like that…" Jasmine shook her head, taking a deep breath through her nose and exhaling deeply through her lips, glancing up into Emmy's warm, honey irises. "I did something really stupid Emmy…"

Emmy studied Jasmine for a moment, not sure exactly what could be so bad that the blonde had to… well, she looked absolutely miserable.

What could be such a mistake that she be so torn up like this?

"It can't be that bad Jasmine…" Emmy smiled reassuringly. "Tell me."

"I… Okay, I'll tell you. But please Emmy, promise you won't tell _anyone_… Please?"

Emmy nodded slowly, her curiosity and worry growing with the longer this was drawn out. Her eyes slowly scanned over the perfect face in front of her, pressing her lips together as she waited. "I promise."

"Well, it's about me being… pregnant."

Emmy's brow rose in surprise, her mouth hanging open briefly as she blinked. "Well, _wow_! That's not so bad Jasmine, truly! And it's… with-,"

"Mr. Ryan…"

"Wow…" Was all Emmy could really manage to say.

She could never in a million years imagine Andrew Ryan being a _father_… In her own opinion Emmy thought Jasmine deserved much better then Mr. Ryan. She had always thought the same for Diane…

It made Emmy wonder what these girls were so fond of.

Yes, he was a very intelligent man with quite the presence. But he was far too critical and… well, that's neither here nor there, Emmy supposed…

The brunette just couldn't imagine what Diane would think when she found out… Not that Emmy could tell her.

Even though Diane was a good friend of Emmy's as well, she'd just made a promise to Jasmine. She wouldn't say a word for the sake of her friend.

She just hoped that didn't ruin her other friendship…

"But… there's more." Jasmine sighed, her hand resting over her stomach as she winced ever so slightly.

"What do you mean?" Emmy tilted her head to the side in question, her brow furrowing as Jasmine took a deep breath.

"I… well, you know that weird Dr. Tenenbaum?"

"The one who discovered ADAM?" Emmy asked, her brow furrowed at such an odd topic to bring up during a conversation of pregnancy. "Yeah I suppose I do, what about her?"

"Dr. Tenenbaum approached me not too long ago… she… well she said that she had heard that I'd made an appointment to get it… aborted." Jasmine whispered, eyeing Emmy's sympathetic expression miserably. "She told me that she'd purchase the thing… the embryo I guess… so, I… I sold it."

Emmy's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You _sold_ it? To Dr. Tenenbaum?"

"I had no other choice!" Jasmine sighed desperately, her eyes beginning to water. "I needed the money real bad Emmy, I've been missing the rent for months now! Mr. Ryan doesn't know a thing, I didn't tell him! And besides, Tenenbaum said it wasn't gonna be anything like a real pregnancy… you know, just for her… tests…"

Emmy sighed, knowing that what Jasmine did wasn't exactly _right_…

But the girl could see why Jasmine was so frightened… Mr. Ryan would most likely be _very_ angry if he found out about an accidental pregnancy.

But if he found out that she sold the embryo?

Emmy cringed at the thought.

"Jasmine, I'm _not_ judging you… you had to do what you had to do." Emmy smiled weakly, wishing Jasmine wouldn't cry… But she guessed that the tears running down the blonde's face now had been held in for a long, long time… "I'm just worried for you, especially if Mr. Ryan finds out what you did."

"I know… I know! He'll figure it out! That's why I'm so crazy!" The blonde groaned, holding her face in her hands miserably. "I'm so scared at what'll he do… He's… he's never hit me, but I know he would if he got mad enough."

Emmy made a face at that, her eyes narrowing at the thought.

The girl didn't doubt that either. He seemed like the type—you could always tell with men…

"Jasmine, maybe you should leave him."

Jasmine looked up with a trembling lip, shaking her head miserably as she breathed in shakily. "No… I can't. I love him too much…"

Emmy stared at Jasmine for a while, her mind tossing and turning over what advice to give the blonde.

The truth was… there wasn't much she _could_ advise.

Mr. Ryan was a tad unpredictable. Emmy wasn't sure whether he'd lash out at Jasmine or simply be angry with her.

If she left him? Well… Emmy didn't know how that would go over. Considering Andrew Ryan was a very proud man.

But if she stayed with him while not telling him of what she'd done? Well, it depended on the outcome.

If he found out the news from someone other then Jasmine then… well, he'd probably be paranoid about it. But if Jasmine told him… Well, Emmy wasn't sure how that would blow over either. It was such a complicated situation, one that Emmy simply didn't have the answers for...

She just hoped Mr. Ryan never found out… for Jasmine's sake…

* * *

**I'm so sorry! It's been a while since I last posted...**

**And I know this is a short chapter, but it's an important one.**

**I also have a few things to address outside of this story.**

**I deleted my Red Dead short story, Red Undead Nightmare, for a number of reasons.**

**One, I posted it up too early. I need time to finish it.**

**Two, I want to wait until I'm finished with other projects.**

**On another note, I'm currently brainstorming stories for both Assassin's Creed and Mafia 2. And possibly Fallout 3.**

**I will be most definitely writing another story for Bioshock, possibly more then one, due to my INTENSE love for Rapture and it's citizens. **

**But right now I'm concentrating on finishing A Life in Rapture, thinking over my plot for my Assassin's Creed story, and piecing together my Mafia 2 story. **

**And I'm contemplating my Fallout 3 story, I want to write one very, very much but I need some time to think of one. **

**UGH! So much! But writing is breathing, it's my life, so I'm happy to. **

**Thank you for the reviews! I can't tell you how much each one inspires me. **

**Another update soon.**


	16. Happy Birthday

_March 15th, 1958_

"Jordan makes the pass to Wilkins… he's going…! He's going! _Touchdown_!"

Emmy, for merriment's sake, cheered rather loudly along with the large crowd as Danny Wilkins raised his fists up in triumph.

"He sure is something…" Diane winked at Emmy, who in turn rolled her eyes playfully.

It's been about 2 or 3 weeks—Emmy supposed, she hadn't quite kept track—of the usual photo shoots and performances. But now Emmy could add Danny Wilkins' avid fan to her agenda.

Of course, she didn't particularly like Danny all _that_ much, considering he was far too possessive and rather touchy feely—much to Randall's secret displeasure. Danny was, over all, a decent guy. Sort of a manly brute though, as if he'd gotten more testosterone then he could handle. Or perhaps more ADAM...? Ah, well, that was none of her business...

Admittedly Sinclair _had_ made sure to make it clear to Danny that Emmy _wasn't_ his girlfriend, and that they weren't necessarily dating.

Yes, Emmy had gone on a few dates with Danny. For appearances' sake. But it was all in good fun, and Diane, Mr. Ryan, Sinclair, and Randall usually came along.

Mr. Ryan came because Danny was his star player, Diane because of Mr. Ryan, Sinclair to keep an eye on Emmy, and Randall to keep an eye on Danny Wilkins.

Danny was rather funny and actually quite interesting to be around, Emmy found. If you got past the whole sports maniac thing…

Although Emmy enjoyed the occasional lewd joke—having made one or two herself on such particular outings—she noticed that Danny was rather raunchy with his jokes. Mr. Ryan and Sinclair laughed of course, and Emmy did as well to keep the party alive, but she wasn't very comfortable when those jokes were directed towards her…

But that's neither here nor there, she had fun when she was around Danny and that was what was important. And perhaps because Sinclair was making this a mandatory job, for publicity, he said.

Today was Danny's birthday, coincidentally on the same day of a very important game against the Sea Bulls.

The score was 35-7, Ryan's Raiders crushing the Sea Bulls in an almost cringe-worthy way.

In fact, the select few fans of the Sea Bulls had already left the stadium in defeat. Mr. Ryan seemed to be glowing with satisfaction.

Soon the game would be over and Emmy would be giving her performance, as requested by Mr. Wilkins.

Along with her famous '_Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend'_ number, she would again perform _'My Heart Belongs to Daddy'_, and finally, the old standby _'Happy Birthday_'.

But no, much to Danny Wilkins' disappointment, she would _not_ be wearing her very famous diamond jumpsuit. The one she wore for her birthday at Eve's Garden.

That was a _tad_ too scandalous for the ladies who would be attending today's performance. Emmy thought the jumpsuit would be rather fun—along with Sinclair. But the women of Rapture didn't seem very happy with Emmy in the first place, given the fact that as soon as she entered the stadium, amidst the flashing bulbs and exclaiming reporters, many a husband and boyfriend asked eagerly for her autograph.

Including, to her amusement, Mr. Jared Knoxby, a rather dashing baseball player on the Apollo Argonauts. Emmy had heard about him in the Tribune, the article had boasted of his athletic prowess.

And she had _also_ read a quote from him about enjoying the birthday performance of a certain Emmy Rousseau… _Hmm_…

She had just finished signing a young teenage boy's poster of her Hop Up cola ad when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

The girl turned to see a largely grinning face—a rather cocky grin she might add—of straight white teeth, twinkling hazel eyes, decently tanned olive skin, and a charming head of chocolate brown hair under a suave fedora.

He was a rugged, Spanish kind of handsome that had Emmy's interest for baseball increasing tenfold.

"Ms. Rousseau, if you would?" The man winked, holding one of her more scandalous posters up for her to sign. "Before I swoon in your starlet presence."

Emmy had decided she instantly liked this man, whether it was his rough, attractive Boston accent, his rather masculine structure, or maybe even his cheeky swagger.

"Well we wouldn't want that now would we Mr. Knoxby?" Emmy flirted teasingly, twirling her finger around so he would present his back. When he did she laid the poster over said broad back—perhaps shamelessly smoothing the poster over his solid muscles a bit more then necessary—before scribbling a neat, '_Emmy Rousseau_' under her arched backside in a pink skirt being blown up to reveal diamond panties. Sinclair's idea, Emmy recalled.

"Probably not, considerin' I'm at a damn doltball game. It's against baseball code, babydoll." The man replied in his wonderfully deep, masculine voice. "If I passed out my rep would be shot to shit for sure."

"Then why exactly are you risking such a considerable reputation?" Emmy purred, handing him back his poster.

"I had to meet you sometime, didn't I?" He grinned, rolling the poster up and tapping the tip of Emmy's nose with it playfully. "Seems you don't like baseball too much, seein' as I've never seen your pretty bottom in the seat I reserved for you. Not once."

"You've never invited me." Emmy sniffed as she turned to the next man holding out a poster, smiling secretly to herself at the joy of flirtation.

"Well how was I supposed t' know? You're too busy singin' chumps like Danny _Pukeins_ Happy Birthday. What about my birthday? It was back in February!"

"Happy Belated Birthday." Emmy winked, leaving the arrogant, cheerful man grinning amongst the crowd of star-struck fans of both baseball and the pinup.

"Come on Sugar, we gotta get you ready."

Emmy was brought back to the present as she felt Sinclair guiding her up from her chair as the crowd once against cheered for Wilkins', who must've scored once again.

* * *

Georgia sighed to herself as she stood at the mercy of the stares…

Stares of disgust, stares of pity, stares of shock…

Yes, she supposed she was quite the unfortunate sight. A lower class splicer, standing in Persephone, waiting to speak to a guard who would never acknowledge her.

She knew she was hideous, something hard to look at. And when you did look at her, it was hard to look away. Like a car crash…

But Georgia was here not for a crime she committed. She was here to investigate—yet again.

The girl had come to Persephone two weeks ago in attempts to find out information on Leon. But, because of her low status, she was granted none.

Despite being rejected she made it a ritual to come to Persephone everyday to pester the guards. She knew they weren't actually allowed to release such facts, but she had to try.

She knew one thing… Because they were so tenaciously denying her information meant _something_ happened to Leon other then being arrested… something bad.

Georgia's attention perked up as she saw a familiar guard walking out of an office and past a desk where prisoners checked in. He seemed to be paying little attention to his surroundings, holding a clipboard in his hands as he strode quickly towards the entrance of the holding cells.

This was her chance!

Giving her surroundings a quick glance—deciding it was safe enough—Georgia quickly scurried after the guard before the door closed.

She then ducked into a depression in the wall not too far from the door, waiting for a moment in cover.

She knew she was in the holding area of the prisoners. She could hear the men's voices and the various tidings of Persephone's inner workings.

But it was also the smell… The dank smell of water and metal… The strong, signature scent of men… and the smell of stale air.

It truly was an unpleasant place… Georgia cringed when imagining Leon here…

Slowly and carefully the girl emerged from her hiding place, deciding that the guards were temporarily staying away from Cell Block A long enough to have a look around.

Her bare feet scampered across the railway and into the Cell Block discreetly, catching the attention of some prisoners, but not enough to cause a scene.

Georgia studied the cells, trying to see if she could recognize any of the criminals to be her Leon…

Black hair, similar dark brown eyes—they always looked black to Georgia, but she knew they were simply a deep coffee color—and the familiar light, olive skin.

If she could just see him again… just see him glare, hear his deep voice… Maybe she could help him escape.

Anything, she just _needed_ to find Leon…

The girl's eyes lingered on a cell—whether it be empty or not—and narrowed her gaze. The cell was dark; sheltering whatever inhabitant that lived in there from view.

Georgia quickly tiptoed over to the cell, keeping a good distance from the bars as she peered into the silent darkness.

"Leon?" The girl hissed quietly before glancing around her warily, perfectly aware that if she were caught sneaking into Persephone that she herself might be thrown into a dark cell like the one before her. "Leon? Are you in there?"

"You mean Leon Calloway?"

Georgia jumped at the deep voice that emerged from the cell, her heart stuttering at the hope that this voice—however different it sounded from Leon's—was his. Maybe he was sick… maybe he lost his voice and was still recovering…

But no, her hopes were dashed when a large black man emerged from the darkness, the black and white jumpsuit hanging in a tattered fashion off his broad shoulders.

"Yeah…" Georgia sighed, her eyes studying the traces of ADAM deformation on the man's ebony skin. "You know him? I need to speak to him."

"He's not in Persephone missy… Not anymore at least…"

Georgia bounded in a quick jerk to the bars, snatching at the man's jumpsuit desperately as her eyes watered hopefully.

"Where is he? Did they release him? He's alright, isn't he?" The questions jumbled from her lips uncontrollably as the man wrenched from her grip, fixing her with a look that she knew meant he thought she was insane. Perhaps she was… But that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting Leon back. "_Tell_ _me_ God damn it!"

"Shh!" The man growled, leaning to peer out the bars while staying carefully out of the girl's dirty finger-nailed reach. "It won't do you no good to yell missy, those guards will snatch you up. I'll get busted too…"

"Fine…" Georgia hissed in impatience, her body shaking from the excitement and hope burning in her chest. "_Please_, tell me what you know…"

The man looked at the girl's desperation curiously but said nothing more of it. He then sighed, leaning against the cement wall as he shook his head.

"He's _eye-talian_ lookin', tall, good-lookin' fella…Smart-mouthed fool. That's your Leon, right?"

"Yes…" The man watched as the strange girl smiled in a slow, trance-like manner. "That's _my Leon_…"

"Yeah… Well, _your_ Leon got himself snatched up. About a month and a half ago I reckons." The large man sighed thoughtfully, glancing at Georgia before carrying on. "He'd been here barely a day or two before ol' Sinclair himself came to talk to him, all special-like. You know your boy got arrested for messin' with Miss Emmy Rousseau…"

"He did?"

"Yup… Even us prisoners heard 'bout it, bein' fans of her ourselves. He was charged on assault, sexual and violent." He nodded in a matter-of-fact way. "And you know that Rousseau missy is Sinclair's property-like. So's he wasn't too happy with your Leon, girl."

Georgia's heart sank… That rich Sinclair fuck _owned_ Persephone… If Leon was on that man's bad-side that probably meant he was…

Just thinking about the possible conclusion made the tears bubble over her lids, making her wring her hands absently against the black metal bars as the man continued.

"Now it's just a rumor, but us prisoners think your boy got made into one of them metal men…" The black man mumbled, Georgia's eyes narrowing in question. "Thas' what happens to fellas 'round here… Sinclair sells our souls to Ryan, makes men into… monsters."

"What're you talkin' about?" Georgia sniffed back the snot as it ran from her nostrils, blinking away the blurry tears as she pulled on the bars in frustration. "_Metal men_? What the hell's that supposed to mean…?"

Georgia jumped as she heard a voice not to far off, sounding like it was coming down the hall from the current Cell Block she was in.

She had to hurry…

"I can't be talkin' t' ya missy… I-I'll get in trouble-,"

"Just… just tell me what metal men are. _Please_?" Georgia hushed as she heard the footsteps of a guard sounding closer and closer to her Cell Block. Her desperate eyes bored into the man's dark gaze as he backed away from the bars hesitantly.

"You'll find out soon enough… You'll see…"

* * *

Emmy grinned out at the crowd as the band behind her tore into '_My Heart Belongs to Daddy_', said crowd cheering loudly with hoots, whistles and cat calls upon hearing the famous tune.

It had only taken the girl a moment to change into her new outfit, a rather form fitting pink halter dress that cut into a low V down her back, and of course accompanied by white peep toe heels.

Pink was apparently Danny Wilkins' favorite color on women.

Looking out at the crowd Emmy could spot Danny, his eyes glued to her in the usual possessive way. The entire two teams of Ryan's Raiders and the Sea Bulls sat in the front, along with their coaches, and Mr. Ryan.

Next to Mr. Ryan was Diane, who was positively beaming at Emmy, then Sinclair on Mr. Ryan's other side, who was grinning affectionately at his 'little money-maker' as he often called her, and then of course Randall, who smiled serenely upon meeting her gaze and watched her with a warm glow in his strange eyes—such good friends…

As she waited for her cue, doing a few little cute shakes of the hips, Emmy looked for one tanned, cocky grin in particular… And found it, not too far from the front, but certainly not near any of the teams.

Jared Knoxby was watching her with a playful, flirtatious heat in his eyes, a few of his baseball buddies sitting with him as the lot of them hooted and whistled the loudest—obviously competing with the footballers.

She gave him a little wink and an extra shake of the hips before leaning forward toward the microphone.

"My name is, Amelia…" The girl purred in an innocent voice, causing loud shouts and even louder whistles to echo through the crowd in appreciation for her.

"And uhh... I'm not supposed to…" Emmy shook her head with a grin, causing her curls to brush against her bare shoulders as the band continued on. "Play…"

A little playful tooting of the trumpets along with a few male cat calls and hoots.

"With boys!" Emmy exclaimed with a grin and a little flirtatious giggle as said boys in the crowd roared with laughter and loud whistles.

Over the roaring of the men one loud voice called out, "Come play with me sweetheart! It's my birthday too!" Which incited more hearty laughter from the men and tight, forced smiles from some of the more uptight housewives.

"_What_?" Emmy gasped in feign-innocence—portrayed by the mischievous grin on her bright face, much to the delight of the man who was bold enough to shout out.

She let the cheers and laughter carry on as the band continued to pound expertly through the notes, until…

"While tearing off… a game of golf…" The girl sang out in a slow, teasing manner. "I may make a play for the caddy…"

More cheers, more whistles, more everything… How Emmy craved this, how she _lived_ off of it!

Then, holding up a finger and smiling sweetly out at the crowd. "But when I do I don't follow through…"—now wagging that finger back and forth, along with some comical sighs and 'aww's from the bolder men in the crowd—"Cause my heart, belongs, to _daddy_…"

Again with the hoots and hollers, the loudest from the football teams and, of course, Jared and his crew.

"If I invite… a _boy_ some night…" Emmy grinned, winking out at the crowd. "To dine on my fine Finnan Haddie… I just adore his asking for more… but," Emmy paused, giving an extra cheeky grin as she locked eyes with Jared Knoxby, "My heart belongs to _daddy_…"

"Yes my heart belongs to daddy!" Emmy sang out, beaming at the crowd before giving a little mock-gasp of innocence. Then, she smiled slowly, bending forward towards the crowd as if she were going to tell them a secret and purring, "So I simply… _couldn't_ be _bad_…"

Much more appreciative whistles and hollers, cheering the girl on as she gave a little saucy shake of the hips.

But one man _wasn't_ cheering her on, his dark eyes watching the girl practice the female art of being a cock-tease with a kind of… hatred…

Jerry used to think this broad was a cute little piece, harmless, just some airhead tease. Yeah, he once understood the infatuation Rapture had with this kid.

But… now all he could see was Leon… Leon thrown into the clink because of this stupid bitch.

Because this floozy _snitched_ on his only friend… His best friend, his brother… And now his brother was gone, dead probably…

He'd heard by now that Leon was arrested for the assault of one Emmy Rousseau, beloved sweetheart of Rapture… Big hot-shot star…

Just because she was Sinclair's new fuck-buddy meant she could send any poor bastard she wanted to the slammer… She could do it, and she did…

Jerry didn't know what happened that night between this stupid broad and Leon… But whatever did happen, Leon _wouldn't_ hurt this girl… A girl he'd had the hots for too? _No God damn way_.

Leon was an asshole, but Jerry knew he'd never hurt a girl. He'd never even raised a hand to _Georgia_.

Yeah, he was a bit touchy-feely with the dames, but that was because he was a charmer. Girls wanted him, and he was always willing…

No… There was more to this story… This broad wasn't assaulted by Leon, Jerry just knew it…

And he certainly intended to find out what happened… Even if he had to beat it out of her pretty little mouth.

"So I want to warn you laddie!" Emmy crooned out smoothly, pointing at a few men in the crowd playfully. "Though I know, you're perfectly, swell…" She winked at one kid, probably about 16, causing him to blush heavily and receive hearty claps on the back from his friends. "That my heart belongs to my daddy…"

The band began to pound out the last few notes loudly with her voice, the smile on her faces broadening with the excitement of the crowd. "Cause daddy… my daddy… My little ol' daddy he treats it so…!"

A loud bang of all the instruments behind her as she grinned, holding the microphone stand in front of her.

The band began to pick up, the notes getting louder and louder as Emmy shook her hips in time with the song playfully—much to the appreciation of the crowd—before purring into the microphone. "That little ol' man he just treats it so _good_…"

Then the three last booms of the instruments echoed in drawn out notes throughout the stadium before the applause roared through the crowd, Emmy bending over in a theatrical bow.

The girl couldn't feel more content as she beamed out at her fans… _Her fans_, even if they be a majority of men, they were _hers_…

It wasn't long before they brought up a special throne for Danny Wilkins, very large compared to Emmy's short stature.

She knew it was time for Danny's special performance, even though she was a little more hesitant for this one…

Ah well, it's all in good fun she supposed.

So, leaning back to the microphone and waving her hands in presentation towards the throne, she grinned. "I think it's time for the birthday boy to take a seat…"

Another loud holler from the crowd, only this time it was from Ryan's Raiders and the fan's of Danny Wilkins, who cheered the athlete on as he jogged up onto the stage.

He plopped himself a bit arrogantly down into the throne, very obviously presenting his knee for Emmy's behind and tucking his hands smugly behind his head.

Ah… Randall might be a _tad_ upset…

But Emmy and Randall were only _dating_, and they certainly weren't dating exclusively. So why not flirt a little here and there?

Emmy, taking the microphone with her, took a comfortable seat on Danny's knee, inciting a very loud roar from Ryan's Raiders.

Danny even had the guts to put his arm around Emmy's waist, fixing her with an expectant smile and an arrogant air about him that—admittedly—irritated Emmy in the slightest.

Ah, the show had to go on…

"Happy Birthday, to you…" Emmy crooned slowly, grinning at Danny before winking at the crowd playfully upon hearing the shouts and cheers. "Happy Birthday… _to you_…"

Emmy tried to ignore the squeeze Danny gave her waist, and even the bold little shake of his knee that made her bounce on his thigh. She played it off with a smile and a teasing poke to his abnormally hard chest, feeling like a very small child in the lap of some large man…

She supposed that was true, except for the child part…

"Happy Birthday, _Danny Wilkins_…" Emmy purred, figuring she was already deep enough into the shamelessness that a little wiggle of the behind wouldn't be so bad. Sinclair would be proud at least. "_Happy_ Birthday, _to you_…"

With the cheering and roaring of the crowd and the confetti floating down around them, Emmy gave Danny a little kiss on his cheek before hopping off his knee and giving the last bow of the night.

* * *

**The delay in posting will never be so long again. I am so, so, so sorry.**

**Thank you to all my readers, reviewers and messagers, every single acknowledgement inspires me beyond explanation.**

**A new post soon! :D**


	17. Missing

_June 16th, 1958_

Emmy sighed as she hung the receiver back on its booth, chewing on her lip in worry as she stared down at her red toenails peaking out from her heels.

The girl couldn't help but let the nagging anxiety in the pit of her stomach overwhelm her with the realization that came to her so suddenly, so bluntly…

Jasmine Jolene was missing…

"Couldn't get a hold of her?"

Emmy glanced over at the man next to her, studying his solemn hazel eyes—quite the contrast to what they usually were like—and nodding dejectedly.

Jared Knoxby, since the day she officially met him, has been Emmy's close and personal friend.

No, they hadn't slept together or anything of the sort. They simply spent a very large amount of time with each other. Including Emmy going to all of his games and he going to all of her performances.

Of course they were attracted to each other, but with Emmy's work and Randall… Well, the girl didn't have time to give Jared the attention he deserved. Besides heavy flirtation of course…

Besides, he was the only one she spoke to of Jasmine's disappearance… He was the only friend not so closely connected with Andrew Ryan.

"I haven't talked to her in months Jared… I…" Emmy stopped, thinking of exactly the last conversation she had with the blonde…

It was in mid-March, a week or so after Danny Wilkins' birthday celebration.

The two women had gone shopping with one another before going to lunch at the Central Square Bistro. Emmy could remember their conversation very clearly…

She could also remember how exhausted Jasmine looked…

Emmy had always been slightly envious of Jasmine's feminine but intense beauty. The girl knew that if it were based purely on looks, Jasmine would certainly be the star out of the two.

But when Emmy saw Jasmine her normally bright blue eyes were dull and exasperated. Her golden hair was a little less perfect then it usually had been, lying limp with half-hearted curls at the tips. Even her makeup was faded, it seemed. No longer did she use the bright red lipstick that seemed to mark her look.

Her skin seemed… drained, her cheeks looking hollowed.

Still, even with such a miserable, sickly visage Jasmine was gorgeous. Her tall, curvaceous figure certainly turning heads more then Emmy's fame ever had.

But as Emmy and Jasmine sat together in a private booth, Emmy couldn't keep her observation to herself any longer.

"Jasmine… You seem…" Emmy paused, searching for a kinder word then what she had in mind. "_Down_. Or sick maybe... Is there something wrong?"

The older woman sighed, but didn't answer her brunette friend for a long time. She seemed to be desperately fighting back tears, her bottom lip twitching from the strain.

Eventually the blonde met eyes with her friend, shaking her head in reply as she exhaled a shaky, pitiful breath.

"Mr. Ryan… He…" Jasmine struggled, gripping the spoon in her hand desperately hard. Emmy eyed the spoon in her white-knuckled grip for a moment, wondering whether the spoon would bend or if it would cut into her palm. "He's so suspicious of me, I just know it… He'll find out soon. About, well, _you_ know…"

Emmy nodded quickly, trying to spare the blonde of having to retell the painful memories of her brief pregnancy. "What do you think he'll do…?"

"I don't know… I don't _know_…" Jasmine wailed softly, her eyebrows knit together as she shook her head absently. "I'm so scared Emmy… I love Mr. Ryan, but… I'm afraid of what will happen to me if he finds out…"

Emmy swallowed slowly, calculating the situation silently.

Mr. Ryan _was_ on edge lately… The civil war of Rapture was heating up. Fontaine and Ryan's followers would fight publicly now… Causing damages to various parts of Rapture, and even shutting popular areas down.

Not too long ago Arcadia was shut down because of the splicers who… well, maybe it was a myth, but it was said they _drank human blood_ as a sacrifice to… whatever god or devil they worshipped.

They possessed powerful plasmids that scared Emmy to even think about…

So imagining if Mr. Ryan—already paranoid—suspected that Jasmine sold his 'child' to Dr. Brigid Tenenbaum… Well, things didn't look so good for Jasmine.

Even Diane complained about being with Mr. Ryan now. It seemed she still had strong feelings for him… but… He was back to standing her up on dates and leaving her to drink her miseries away.

Emmy wondered what it would be like if _Diane_ had gotten pregnant…

She would've kept it. She would be overjoyed. Ecstatic.

Mr. Ryan would no doubt be relatively happy to have an heir to his throne. Everything would've worked out.

But it was such a drastic difference with Jasmine. Jasmine wasn't like Diane in terms of a relationship with Andrew Ryan.

Diane was in the public eye, and although Jasmine was as well in some way, she was an exotic dancer… Someone unfit to be in proper society, as many thought.

But Emmy shook those thoughts from her head, placing a soft hand over Jasmine's and giving her a reassuring smile.

"If you're so worried then maybe you should tell him you need some time alone… You could take a break from Eve's Garden and come stay with me for a while. My apartment is big enough for the two of us…" Emmy grinned at the thought of having a roommate. Especially Jasmine, who was such a fun, carefree soul.

At least she used to be, Emmy supposed.

Jasmine seemed to brighten up at that thought too, giving Emmy's hand a squeeze with momentary hope in her eyes.

But then, as if remembering something, she shook her head. "No, Mr. Ryan might think I'm doing something behind his back."

As Emmy studied her blonde friend she sighed, feeling very lucky that Mr. Ryan hadn't pursued her since bringing her to Rapture.

Yes, she had caught him eyeing her heatedly from time to time, and she most obviously knew that he was interested in her. But he was so caught up between Diane, Jasmine, and any of the other women he had that he didn't seem to invest so much into Emmy anymore.

Besides, Emmy herself was busy with Randall and Jared.

"So, you don't think you'll ever tell him?" Emmy asked, taking a thoughtful sip of her coffee.

Jasmine shook her head, swirling some spilt sugar around on the table in front of her with her index finger. "No, as if he'll ever be committed to _me_ anyway… If he's going to marry anyone it'll be that… _Diane McClintock_…"

Emmy cocked an eyebrow at the jealousy that laced Jasmine's tone, wondering on the irony of such a thing.

"I don't see why you and Diane hate each other… Mr. Ryan's the one who's juggling the both of you, it's unfair." Emmy sighed, truly wishing that all three women could have a nice dinner together without _one_ mention of Andrew Ryan.

"Oh… I'm sorry Emmy; I forgot that you and Diane are friends…" Jasmine looked up with an apologetic look in her deep blue eyes, her brow pulled together in concern.

"Don't apologize." Emmy smiled, waving it away with her hand as she exhaled with worry for both of her beautiful, blonde friends. "I suppose I just don't see the attraction you two have for him… Besides, of course, his presence."

"Yeah, well, join the club." Jasmine grumbled, leaning dejectedly back in her chair as she blew a blonde lock away from her eyes.

"I was… actually wondering on something." Emmy smiled slowly, straight white teeth peeking out from behind full red lips. "How is he in bed?"

Jasmine snorted at the bluntness of the question, almost instantly falling back into her crude ways.

"What do you think? Dominating."

Emmy had smiled and laughed, exchanging a similar story of Randall Faber's capability in the sheets.

Emmy supposed it was fitting, that the last day that she'd seen her painfully beautiful friend was a day of both laughter and heart-aching worries.

The brunette was brought back to the moment as Jared draped a strong arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from the booths and back into the streets of Apollo Square.

"I'm sorry babydoll… Suppose I could ask around, see if any of the boys have seen her at Eve's Garden lately?" Jared sighed, giving his small friend's shoulder a squeeze as the flashes of paparazzi cameras brightened their path momentarily.

"Yes, please Jared… I can't tell you how much I'd appreciate that…" Emmy smiled, leaning into his side gratefully as the photographers retreated with their pictures and no doubt scandalous accusations of the baseball player and pinup.

For a long time Emmy had admired Jared's looks and cocky, lewd personality. He was so affectionate with her, so gentle and sweet. But when he joked with her he was raunchy and hilarious.

She truly cared for Randall still, with his soft, kind personality and wise eyes.

But Jared was very compatible with her as well, she thought. And there was also the curiosity of this man, in the sense that they had not yet had any physical affection yet whatsoever. Besides him draping his arm around her shoulders of course. And perhaps the occasional pat to her backside...

However, even Jared's warm personality wasn't enough to distract Emmy from Jasmine's disappearance…

It seemed when everything in Emmy's life was going well—a record released to the public titled: _The Best Of Emmy Rousseau_, growing fame, performances at the Footlight Theater, a growing crowd at the Kashmir, and a closer friendship with Sinclair—one thing had to go terribly wrong…

What made the situation of Jasmine's disappearance so complicated was Andrew Ryan.

Emmy _knew_ he had something to do with her absence… She knew that because Jasmine had only told Emmy about the pregnancy incident—for as far as Emmy knew, at least. If Emmy was the only one that knew, then Ryan wouldn't have to worry about anyone accusing him of her disappearance.

Besides Dr. Tenenbaum—… Of course! Why hadn't Emmy thought of it before?

Maybe Dr. Tenenbaum knew something about Jasmine's disappearance…

Of course, Emmy had no idea how to reach Dr. Tenenbaum, having never seen her at any special events during her time in Rapture.

Emmy had heard from Sinclair that Dr. Tenenbaum was more so a scientist then a social-butterfly. She liked to stay with her science…

Well, Emmy would talk to Sinclair more about that later, she concluded.

"Look Daddy! We found one!"

Emmy's brow knit together at the strange voice… It sounded like a young girl's but with a strange, deep undertone…

Nothing like Emmy had ever heard before.

"Did you hear that?" Emmy hushed to Jared as they both stopped abruptly in their step, looking around for any little girls.

Emmy couldn't see any; her thoughts suddenly traveling back to those she had the day she met Grace.

About how she rarely saw a little girl in Rapture…

"Mmm… This one has lots of ADAM!" The little girl's voice giggled, the demonic undertone making it sound… frightening… distorted.

Jared put a finger to his lips, motioning for Emmy to be quiet as he nodded pointedly to an empty newsstand.

Behind the stand was a depression in the solid, metal walls of Rapture, a place where the owner of the newsstand could rest in privacy during the day.

Emmy assumed that Jared heard the voice coming from inside the dark depression, so she nodded to him and followed as he walked towards the stand.

Slowly, Emmy and Jared peeked around the magazine-stand, his hand intertwining in hers protectively.

Emmy's heart lurched in fear at the sight before her, her eyes widening as a gasp forced itself from her lungs before she could hold it back.

There stood a Big Daddy, although it looked quite different from Subject Delta. He was a wider Big Daddy, with a bulbous looking head that had several little small circular glass plates that glowed that familiar, endless yellow.

It still had the same menacing drill for a right hand, but this one didn't have the strange glove that Subject Delta had.

However, the Big Daddy wasn't the only thing that shocked Emmy to her core.

It was the… _thing_ that was kneeling next to a dead body, stabbing a large needle into the corpse's chest, drawing a red liquid from its body that Emmy assumed to be blood.

This thing was a little girl… it had a grayed skin color, dark blue veins visible under its sickly skin. Its eyes glowed as yellow as the Big Daddy's glass plates, dark purplish-grey circles hollowing the sockets and bags around the girl's eyes.

She wore a typical little girl's dress, just like any Emmy had seen. Except she was barefoot with no stockings… And her dress… it was dirty with not only smudges of grime but also… spots of _blood_.

This was a young girl, maybe only 6… What was _wrong_ with her…?

Jared quickly pulled Emmy away from the scene as the tears bubbled over the young woman's eyes, the little girl humming an unknown song as they retreated.

"Mr. Bubbles, Mr. Bubbles, are you there…? Are you there…? Come and give me lollies, come and bring me toffees… Teddy bears, teddy bears…"

* * *

His eyes stared straight ahead, hazy, obedient, still…

The little man in front of him squinted up in the glass plate in front of his face, pursing his lips in thought.

"Curious… Very curious…" The small human mumbled, stepping down from the stool he used to stand at a height tall enough to stare into the silent soldier's eyes.

The man inside the heavy suit of metal and leather could hear music… coming from somewhere in the room.

He knew things like that shouldn't concern him… That's not what Dr. Alexander wanted him to worry about.

But this music… It was different then the others he'd heard on the small radio in the far corner of the room.

Usually Dr. Alexander would leave the radio on during examinations of his Subject, the Subject who couldn't bond.

It didn't seem like Dr. Alexander listened to the music, but the Subject did.

"You know Subject Zeta; you're proving to be quite the obstacle…" Dr. Alexander's kind voice sounded over the rustling of papers and opening of drawers.

Subject Zeta, as he supposed he should call himself, turned his heavy head slowly over to the radio as the strangely familiar voice crooned from it's speakers.

"_I'll be seeing you… In every lovely summer's day…_" The woman sung slowly and beautifully, like honey, the Subject decided. He couldn't remember what honey tasted like, but somehow he knew it would be as mind-numbingly smooth as this woman's voice. "_In everything that's light and gay… I'll always think of you that way…_"

Subject Zeta broke his usual ritual of standing obediently still, lifting his heavy boots as he walked slowly over to the radio.

The woman's voice was attracting him; her voice triggered something in his chest, even after he was long since convinced that it was empty.

The voice was suddenly all he could hear; even the instruments playing in time with her singing were tuned out.

Gil Alexander glanced up upon Subject Zeta's sudden movement, watching with wary eyes as the large beast walked straight past him.

His dark eyes followed the metal man, watching with furrowed brows as it picked up the radio. It simply stared at it as the woman's voice chimed out the notes to '_I'll Be Seeing You_'.

Admittedly a very lovely singing voice, but what interest did it have to a Protector? Why did it _care_?

Gil continued to watch the Subject as the staticky song continued on, somehow catching the thing's utmost attention.

Then, to Gil's surprise, the thing gave out a low moan, it's voice rumbling through the floors and echoing off the walls in a whale-like essence.

"Zeta? What are you doing?" Gil asked, though the Subject didn't even bother to look up. It was focused so intently on listening to the voice traveling through the speakers that it seemed to ignore simple orders…

Hmm…

"Francis! Could you come in here?"

It wasn't long before Gil's young assistant hurried into the room, his thick rimmed glasses askew as he hurried to his boss.

Francis glanced over at Subject Zeta holding the radio in mild-curiosity before turning to his superior.

"Yes Dr. Alexander?"

"Who is this girl singing…? She sounds so _familiar_…" Gil mused slowly, watching the Subject as it gave a low hum—as if _sighing_.

The boy listened to the voice for a moment before a smile spread over his freckled face. "This is Emmy Rousseau. Quite the star, you've met her before, sir… Why do you ask?"

Gil strode across the room, standing beside the giant and peering up at him. His shoulders rose and fell discreetly with his slow, calm breathing, nothing to portray the true emotions under it's armor. Gil wished he could see the thing's expression; to, perhaps, get a better handle on exactly what emotion it was feeling…

_Emotion_… How very strange! The Alpha series was admittedly designed for emotions, but only for one small girl in particular. And that was with the correct surgery and alterations to the brain's thinking process.

But this Protector, who has tenaciously refused the bonding process that so many others had accepted, has enough conscience and emotion to recognize a song on the radio…

Perhaps this requires more research…

Gil turned back to his assistant as the song began closing towards the last notes.

"This Subject, it's the one that seems to refuse the bonding process." Gil explained to the young man as the song silenced into closing. "But he still has memories… or, rather, _feelings_ of his past. This Subject is quite unique. Perhaps—although it's rather unfortunate—he is unable to bond with someone unless he already has some sort of emotional attachment already… perhaps he needs a… oh, I don't know… a base of some sorts. Do you see what I mean?"

Gil and Francis jumped at the sudden loud crack and snap behind them, whipping around in defense.

Subject Zeta had torn the radio in half as if it a piece of paper and tossed it angrily back onto the table it was originally on. The beast's growl of frustration reverberated off the walls, a warning of pending aggression, Dr. Alexander knew all too well...

Gil was going to like this one…

"Ah… quickly! Go get one of those posters of that girl! I know you have one or two in your quarters."

Francis blushed darkly but scampered off obediently to please both his superior and the frustrated Big Daddy.

Gil backed against the far table, for safety measures of course—he didn't want what happened to Suchong to happen to him… no sir—and waited for Francis to return.

He supposed this was pointless… Even if he discovered this new breakthrough of the tenaciousness of the human mind, what would it help?

Would he assign this Big Daddy to be the body guard of some singer?

She was a lovely girl with a voice that rightly needed to be immortalized in Rapture, but the Alpha Series were a very important and specially designed project. They were needed with the Little Sister… Not with a celebrity.

And besides, that would require the girl coming in to undergo the bonding process as well.

Gil was sure that Sinclair wouldn't be too happy about that…

Besides, the case with a grown woman and a grown man was a far different relationship then a little girl and said grown man.

The emotions with a Little Sister always developed into a fatherly love.

But with a grown woman? Wouldn't that develop into… Some sort of romance?

Gil cringed at the idea upon the smell of Subject Zeta that wafted towards him… That disgusting but very signature smell…

"Here sir!" The boy exclaimed as he hurried clumsily into the room, the sound of the poster flapping around in the air loosely as he presented the saucy picture of the girl to Dr. Alexander.

The Emmy Rousseau on the poster was in a sparkly jumpsuit with a black top hat on, covered in diamonds with an equally sparkling smile plastered on her red lips. Rather saucy, if you asked Mr. Alexander.

Gil would confront his student on that poster later…

"Quickly! Show it to the Subject!"

The assistant nodded quickly, hurrying over to the beast and holding the poster up as straight as he could manage with only two hands.

Subject Zeta looked up upon another small man standing before him, holding up a colorful piece of paper…

A picture… of a woman.

Zeta tried to ask who this woman was, but all that came out was a low, guttural groan. He winced at the sound before lifting a hand and pushing back the curled corner that covered the face of the girl.

The Subject felt his heart thump unevenly upon seeing the face… the beautiful peachy skin, the large red lips, the sparkling brown eyes, and the _smile_…

Somehow he knew that the woman with the honey voice was the same woman in this picture…

Honey voice and honey eyes…

Zeta gave another groan upon trying to ask what her name was… It was so close… he almost knew it, as if it were on the tip of his tongue.

He ran his large, gloved fingers over her face, wishing he actually had feeling in his hand… He wished he could touch her face, or perhaps see her sing in person…

"Fascinating… simply _fascinating_…" Gil breathed, watching the beast gently interact with the poster. "I suppose he must've had some sort of romance with this girl in his previous life."

"What shall we do about this Doctor?" Francis asked, admittedly looking quite nervous to be in such close proximity with the large drill hanging from the beast's arm.

The story of Suchong's death had certainly gotten around, it seemed.

"Hmm… Well, I believe I'd like to speak to Sinclair about this. You never know, he might want a special body guard for his song bird, eh?"

* * *

"Well, uh, I never really expected to have a meetin' with you, Dr. Tenenbaum."

Sinclair sat down calmly in his chair after the customary tea had been set in front of the two unlikely companions.

Brigid nodded politely to Sinclair as she took a tentative sip at her tea, glancing around at the room she sat in.

"I thank you for having me Mr. Sinclair… I have much business to discuss with you…" Tenenbaum sighed, knowing the task ahead wouldn't go over smoothly. "I only hope you consider it."

"Well business is my game Tenenbaum, so I'm sure I will…" Sinclair smiled, leaning back in his chair as he held up a cigar. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Tenenbaum shook her head with a dismissive wave of her hand, watching as Sinclair then lit his cigar and breathed the smoke in deeply.

Then, he sighed, the smoke swirling from his nostrils as he crossed a leg over his knee, giving Tenenbaum a once over.

She wasn't ugly like most had described her.

Yeah, she was skinny like a pole and as tall as one, no real curves to speak of. Even if her face was thin and her nose slightly hooked, she was sorta cute. In that kraut, mad scientist sorta way, Sinclair supposed.

He, knowing that this bean pole worked for Fontaine, was mildly curious at exactly what _kind_ of business she wanted him involved in.

Probably dirty, but that was okay… Sinclair wasn't opposed to a little excitement.

"So, what is it that you're here to offer me…?"

Brigid nodded briefly, feeling a tad awkward, before she cleared her throat. "Actually Mr. Sinclair, it is _you_ that has something _I_ want…"

Sinclair's brow rose in sudden interest at maybe making a nice buck or two. But it surprised him… This chickie was a real science geek. What could Sinclair have—besides sponsorship—that she could possibly want?

"Oh?"

"Yes." Brigid nodded once more before taking a deep breath. "Your spokes-model."

Sinclair's eyes narrowed at the mention of Emmy, tapping his cigar absently and letting the ashes fall into the tray conveniently placed right under his smoking hand.

He then made an acknowledging sound in the back of his throat, taking a quick drink of the tea set before him.

Now Sinclair was a business man, so if this kraut presented the right price… as much as he hated to part with both Emmy's friendship and money-making abilities… well, money is money.

_Although_, Emmy presented a gold mine that would last for _years_ at least…

He already made a fortune in her performances and poster sales alone…

And besides, what did Tenenbaum want with his girl? As far as Sinclair knew, Tenenbaum used girls—particularly little ones—and deformed them into monsters.

So, keeping his guard up, Sinclair cocked his head to the side in his observation of the broad.

"Emmy Rousseau? Now why would you want her?" Sinclair asked in his usual slow drawl, a guarded smile spreading over his face. "She's a sweet thing but she ain't no science major."

"Yes, I know." Tenenbaum sighed, trying to figure out a way to properly present this to Sinclair so he would find it appealing… But… She knew men like him didn't care about furthering scientific discovery… "Mr. Sinclair, I'm sure you know my association with the development of the Little Sister project."

"Mhmm, sure do." Sinclair grunted, fixing a narrowed eye on the woman across from him. "Now I'm not exactly a _sentimental_ man Doc, but even _I_ don't much approve of that business."

"Yes, well, you should. Your company, Sinclair Solutions, needs ADAM to work, yes? Well those little girls provide you with that ADAM. It's the only way, Mr. Sinclair." Tenenbaum explained, having already been judged by everyone else in Rapture on the whole Little Sister project. Except Fontaine, of course, but there wasn't much that could surprise _him_... "I need to propose an idea to you, but you must promise to listen to me without interruptions."

Sinclair made a face, not exactly appreciating being told what to do by some young kraut. Especially one that deals in even dirtier business then Sinclair does, and that's saying something...

But, he nodded, always listening to an opportunity when presented.

Tenenbaum, taking her cue to inform Sinclair of her proposition, took a deep breath. "How I turn normal little girl's into those Little Sisters is by inserting a raw, live ADAM slug into their stomach. From there the slug adapts to it's environment and attaches itself to the host, forming a sort of bond for survival… it pumps ADAM in their little bodies and makes them virtually invincible, admittedly with physical side-effects…"

She paused, taking a breath. "My assistant and I have come across a slug that is very unique… very _particular_ in the host it needs to adapt. Through research my assistant came up with requirements that are most likely needed to be able to use the slug's powers."

Sinclair raised an eyebrow, watching the woman's fervor of speech increase.

"Now, these requirements… they are _also _very unique. They require a certain blood type, age group, and gender. That gender being female, age 18 through 25, and a rare blood type that is very, _very_ hard to find."

Sinclair's gaze darkened in the slightest upon the growing realization of just what this woman needs his girl for…

"Mr. Sinclair, this slug could have _endless _possibilities! It would further the science and knowledge of ADAM more then we could possibly imagine. It was by a sheer miracle that we found the perfect match here in Rapture…" Brigid continued in a passionate tone, clenching her fists in emphasis. "If… if I could have your permission to insert the slug into Ms. Rousseau for testing… Then she could be a scientific breakthrough! The possibilities, Mr. Sinclair, are endless."

Sinclair sighed, realizing that he had been so avidly struck by the insanity of this broad's proposition that he'd wasted a whole cigar. The thing was almost burnt down to the soggy, wet end.

The man tapped the ashes from the end before looking back up at Tenenbaum and exhaling thoughtfully.

"So, lemme get this straight _Doctor_." Sinclair narrowed his eyes in irritation at the skinny thing across from him. "You want me to give you _my_ girl, _my star_, just so you can turn her into one of your crack-pot monsters that you call 'Little Sisters'. Or, as you refer to it, a _scientific breakthrough_."

Tenenbaum sighed, having predicted such a reaction.

Well, there goes the easy way, she supposed.

"I think you know my answer to your proposition, doc."

"Right…" Tenenbaum stood, giving a curt nod to Sinclair—who, she noticed, didn't rise politely upon her leave as he did upon her arrival. "I'm sorry I bothered you Mr. Sinclair… But… Just keep it in mind… It might save her life one day."

* * *

Emmy's _heels_ even sounded angry as they clicked loudly against the metal flours of Hephaestus, her chestnut curls bouncing as she clenched her fists in determination.

"Uh…? _Hey_! Ms. Rousseau?" Emmy paused in her step upon the address to her name, looking around to see a rather dirty man in even dirtier overalls.

He hurried over to her as she walked amongst the mumbling workers, the sparks from their tools hissing into the air and the smell of machinery heavy in Emmy's lungs.

It reminded Emmy vaguely of her father, she mused.

He eyed her curiously, still holding his large tool in his greasy hand, which was admittedly attached to a fairly muscled arm...-

_Focus girl, focus_!

He lifted up his dark, protective goggles, revealing his almost comically clean eyes.

"It's an honor you're here Miss but… it's _real_ dangerous for a dame of your status…" The man smiled, giving her a discreet once over as the work in Hephaestus seemed to pause to look at the icon in their midst.

"Oh I'll be fine." Emmy smiled, temporarily losing her fire when presented with a kind man.

Although, kind men around her or not, Emmy didn't miss the large painting of a familiar caramel eyed, red lipped pin up, Emmy's big, bright smile plastered on a large looking machine, along with her… ahem, _assets_.

Emmy had heard of workers and men at war who painted pinups on their heavy machinery, for luck she supposed. Or maybe something to look at during the hard days.

_Men_…

"I was actually coming here to see Mr. Ryan. I assume he's in his office."

The man raised an eyebrow, picturing his bosses' warning of any disturbances and how it'd fair in the long run for his ass.

But he couldn't deny Emmy Rousseau, no sir.

He'd heard that despite her fame she was a sweet little southern piece. And he'd heard right, that was for damn sure. The real sweetheart of Rapture in the flesh was better then any old poster...

So, he smiled at her, thinking that if he'd get in her good graces she might shed some… _kindness_ on his pour, sore soul. Women were funny like that; they pick poor chumps like him on rare occasions.

"I'll let him know Miss." He nodded, motioning for Emmy to follow him. "All of us workers down here in Hephaestus just love you, as I'm sure you've noticed… Your biggest fans to date." The man grinned proudly, glancing pointedly over at the large machine with Emmy's scantily clad figure painted down the length of it.

Emmy looked over at her figure, studying the exaggerated ampleness of her chest, but she grinned despite it.

Then, looking around at all the men she gave a little finger wave. "Well I'll have to come down here more often then; I didn't know such handsome fellas were down here!"

She got a roar of laughter in reply, which warmed her heart… as always.

The men then seemed to realize the show was over as they watched Rapture's pin up walking off with one of their own towards Mr. Ryan's office, mumbling amongst themselves as they turned back to their work.

"Ah… Miss? I shoulda warned ya before we came over here…" The man paused as he stopped just in front of an intercom, his dirty face frowning in what looked like concern... "Mr. Ryan isn't in a very good mood… He hasn't been at all lately…" The man continued, his hand hesitating over the intercom. "Just be careful, alright?"

Emmy stared at the man for a moment, wondering on the warning she just received… Does he know something about Jasmine…?

Perhaps Emmy _would_ have to come down here more often… Perhaps see what she could find out from these men…

"What's your name?" Emmy asked with a smile.

The man raised an eyebrow before grinning in a triumphant manner. "Langley Miss. Joseph Langley."

"Well Joseph, thanks for your concern." Emmy smiled, falling back into her heavier accent in her easy talk. It was a habit of hers, with the drunker she got, the angrier she got, or the more excited she got, the more her South Carolinian accent came out. "I'll be fine… I'm Sinclair's, Not Ryan's."

Langley nodded at the wisdom of that before smiling slightly, holding down a button and clearing his throat.

"Ahem, Mr. Ryan sir? I know you said not to bother you, but you have an important visitor."

There was a familiar loud sigh that echoed from the speakers above Emmy's head, causing her to look up at those speakers with the anger returning to her chest.

"Important enough to interrupt my work, you imbecile? Who is this _important_ visitor...?"

Emmy narrowed her eyes at such an insult to this kind man, swallowing back the insults _she _wanted to shout over the intercom.

"Ms. Emmy Rousseau, sir. She came to Hephaestus to speak to you."

There was a long pause on the other line, making Emmy think that perhaps Mr. Ryan didn't hear the man. But then he cleared his throat, the large door in front of the two opening as Mr. Ryan mumbled, "Let her in."

Emmy glanced at the open door as she took a deep breath, vowing to herself that she wouldn't let this man scare her… Getting thrown in Persephone or not, Emmy would get some answers about the little girl she saw on the street today… And perhaps about Jasmine…

Emmy then gave a weak smile to the man who had helped her, shaking his hand warmly. "Thank you Mr. Langley. I'll remember your kindness."

The girl tried to muster the strength she'd gained in her months with Sinclair… She tried as hard as she could to sigh away her fears as she entered in a rather beautiful looking office.

Why should she be scared of Andrew Ryan? He was just a man after all… Sinclair would protect her if worse comes to worse.

You couldn't just shut away Sinclair's girl without question, even if you _were_ Andrew Ryan… Rapture _would_ notice that.

Emmy looked around her as a soft piano played over a record somewhere in the office. The room smelled wonderful. Like cigars and a fireplace.

Somehow the smell of cigars reminded her of Sinclair, and in turn that made her feel more confident.

She was no longer an insignificant girl in Rapture… She had power, she had only just realized…

There was power in celebrity… there was influence in it.

Mr. Ryan may have done something to Jasmine Jolene, but she was an exotic dancer. Jasmine, for however wonderful she was, wasn't apart of one of the most influential companies in Rapture.

Emmy _was._ She was the face of Sinclair products, so she had a say in matters for as far as she was concerned.

So the girl took a deep breath as she walked past a large, golden globe and into a room that looked more like an office then before. It had a desk, but Mr. Ryan was not sitting there.

She didn't see the man anywhere in fact…

A cigar lay smoking passively in its ashtray, the musky smoke curling up into the air as a coffee cup steamed silently beside it. Emmy held her purse more tightly to her side as she slowly approached the desk, her heels clicking hollowly against the floor.

Emmy knew she shouldn't snoop, so she didn't. Even when very important papers lay in front of her on the desk. She only ran her finger tips over the name '_Andrew Ryan_' in absent observation.

"And where might Sinclair be today, Amelia?"

Emmy gasped and spun around at the voice that sounded so suddenly behind her. She was met with Andrew Ryan's thoughtful gaze.

He was in a beautiful suit, his black hair slicked back and his mustache perfectly combed.

He was a rather sharp looking man, Emmy noted. Although not necessarily handsome in her eyes, he had the suaveness of a gentleman.

Even if Emmy suspected him of betraying such a gentlemanly visage in dirty business...

But Emmy smiled, in spite of her wariness of the man, watching him as he walked around her to sit at his desk.

"He doesn't know I'm here. I have a break from business today." Emmy replied with a chuckle, looking around at the man's office. "Your office is real grand Mr. Ryan, I must say."

"Thank you my dear…" The man smiled tightly, as usual, and looked the girl before him up and down briefly. "But, I'm curious… Why have you come to speak to me without the presence of Sinclair? I'm assuming this isn't for business."

Emmy cut her eyes back into the man's naturally intense gaze, smiling weakly before shaking her head.

"No, this is not about business Mr. Ryan… I came here to speak with you about something that greatly concerns me."

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the young woman before him, the suspicion hissing in his ears as he leaned back against his leather chair.

He'd always admired the young thing for her soft, feminine beauty and her bubbly nature. He liked variety in his women…

With Diane it was her maternal-nature, her social skills, and her obedience…

With Emmy it was her out-going personality, her powerfully exceptional voice— the main reason he brought Emmy to Rapture, and her innocent, country girl visage.

With Jasmine-…

Mr. Ryan nodded in reply once he shook the ponderings from his mind, nodding towards the seat across from him for the nature of private meetings. "Please, sit."

He watched the small woman smile kindly, but not warmly… She took a seat as she was told, giving one more appreciative glance around the room before crossing her leg over the other and smiling serenely at Andrew.

"Now, what is it that concerns you?" He in turn smiled guardedly, slowly opening his desk drawer and pulling out a fresh cigar.

"Well, I was walking in Apollo Square today and…" She paused, looking down at her fingers as they worried themselves with the hem of her dress.

Andrew watched this. Such weakness… such nerves…

He tapped the ashes from the butt of his cigar thoughtfully. He could feel the girl's anxiety from here; he could almost hear her erratic thoughts…

Quite a strange girl… She possessed such a confident and demanding stage presence when performing, but she crumples in the presence of real power…

Then he watched as she took a deep breath and lifted her head, the usual permanent smile erased.

"Mr. Ryan I know that you deal in plasmids, and I know you made those… Big Daddies. So please, don't deny your action in what I saw today." Emmy began in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Andrew's brow to twitch in surprise. "Today, Mr. Ryan, I saw a little girl with one of them Big Daddies… She looked sick, dead even, and her voice… But that's not all; she was _drawing blood_ from a _corpse_… In Apollo Square!"

Mr. Ryan narrowed his eyes at the mention of a Little Sister in Apollo Square.

He'd have to speak with Gil about such a thing…

"Now, I respect you Mr. Ryan, I do. But I have a feeling those little girls have been dealing with ADAM, they look like… _monsters_. I can't help but wonder how exactly those little girls came in contact with ADAM." Emmy huffed, her fists clenching as she stared hard into the blue eyed gaze that bore into hers. "I came here to confront you about it, because it's wrong. They're _little girls_, and I have _no_ idea why they're drawing blood from corpses, or why they look so sick, or why they're with those Big Daddies… But I want some answers!"

Mr. Ryan studied the steaming young woman before him for a long, calculating minute; his eyes scanning over her flushed cheeks, her quickly rising and falling chest, her raging eyes…

Never had he seen such anger in this girl… And such integrity.

He thought it admirable in all honesty, the attraction for this woman increasing as he smiled very slowly.

"You're very brave, Ms. Rousseau." Mr. Ryan concluded, giving her an honest smile as he let the smoke curl from his lips. "Even some of my closest colleagues will not confront me as you just did. I admire that."

"Th-… Thank you." She looked quite flustered upon the compliment, her hard visage faltering momentarily before she glared determinedly at Andrew.

"Although, my dear, I'm afraid that the little girl you saw on the street today was not my direct doing…" He explained slowly as he took a thoughtful sip of the coffee in front of him. "They're called Little Sisters, and they're Dr. Tenenbaum's creation."

Emmy's eyes widened, the anger falling from her eyes and immediately replaced by silent horror.

"Little… Sisters? But, isn't that-,"

"Yes, the Little Sister orphanage… They go there to help Rapture, and believe me Ms. Rousseau, they're doing just that."

"They're helping Rapture by drawing blood from dead bodies? They're helping Rapture by being infected with ADAM?" Emmy exclaimed, picturing the frightening little girl in her head… calling that monster her father… "Mr. Ryan, you can't really believe that's true! They're _children_, how is what they're doing possibly helping Rapture?"

"ADAM is the Little Sister's business, my dear, and if you haven't already noticed ADAM is a _prime _business here in my city." The man replied in his business tone, making the girl's visage falter momentarily. "Besides, the ADAM makes them indestructible. Nothing can hurt them. And if that weren't enough, those Protectors are there for their safety, so no one will try to harm the little girls. They are completely safe and completely harmless, I can assure you."

"But what makes them look so frightening? And do their parents know where they are?" Emmy shot back. "I've seen parents posting up missing posters of their daughters… Do the little girls go willingly or are they stolen, Mr. Ryan?"

"Whatever is necessary Ms. Rousseau. These little girls are chosen specially for Rapture's safety. You should be proud of these girls for making your society a better place…"

"By violating corpses in the streets?"

Mr. Ryan sighed, growing very tired of this woman's silly concerns. How could he expect a singer to understand such a situation?

"I know it seems like an ugly business my dear Amelia, and your concern is very admirable." The man smiled tightly as he stood and walked slowly over to the girl in her seat. "But I assure you, this is a necessary business… Now, if you'll forgive me, I have… business to attend to…"


	18. Down He Goes

_September 12th, 1958_

Sinclair watched the beautiful girl next to him shaking with laughter, her broad red lips spread over her white teeth as she leaned into him merrily.

It was a special day for his girl… the day she received her Star plaque.

It was a long and fast road of bringing this girl to the top, but she'd done it in a month or so. His best business investment he'd made in years.

His affection for the girl had grown into a friendship, which still made Sinclair laugh. To think he'd make a true friend in this business… That always gave him a cheap chuckle.

"Ah… You're going to make me die of heart attack on the best night of my life!" Emmy exclaimed with a poke to Jared Knoxby's ribs, making the rogue grin merrily.

"Don't say such things Emmy! It's bad luck." Diane clicked her tongue disapprovingly at her brunette friend—who was deliciously buzzed and probably couldn't stop giggling even if she wanted to.

Sinclair supposed that he should cut his starlet off the booze before she got drunk, but he didn't quite have the heart to.

She was amongst her greatest friends—himself of course, Ms. McClintock, that ball player Knoxby, Faber, and various other celebrities and business men that had their eye and wallet in Emmy's favor.

Of course, _Mr_. Faber seemed sorta put out… That being because his love interest seemed to be far more interested in Knoxby and his cocky million dollar smile.

But Sinclair knew his Emmy to be a carefree kinda gal. She didn't want to settle with one fella.

Emmy rolled her eyes at Diane playfully and took a sip of her Merlot specially brought from Worley Winery stores for this special occasion.

"It'd be okay if I did die though Diane, I'd die a happy woman." Emmy smiled grandly, licking the excess alcohol from her lips. "That's what counts, wouldn't you say?"

Sinclair grinned and gave Emmy's waist a squeeze before taking a long, satisfied drag on his cigar. "Couldn't agree more sugar…"

"Excuse me! Ms. Rousseau?"

Emmy looked up from the bottom of her now empty glass to squint questioningly at the little man that approached the table.

He had a large camera around his neck, an Accu-Vox in his hand, and a grand, admiring smile on his face as he eyed Emmy and the table full of big-shots.

No doubt it was lucky to not only catch Rapture's sweetheart herself, but Augustus Sinclair, Jared Knoxby, and Randall Faber at the same table, all pleasantly buzzed.

"Yes?" Emmy smiled at the paparazzi, allowing Jared to pour her another glass of Merlot.

"I was wondering if I could get a word with you about receiving your official Star Plaque, and if I could get a picture for the Tribune?"

"Of course!" Sinclair grinned, tapping the ashes from his cigar before winking at Emmy. "She'd love to."

"Yes, I would." Emmy nodded with a smile, motioning for an empty seat at the table. "Have a drink before it's all gone!"

The paparazzi chuckled despite refusing a drink politely, saying something about being forbidden to drink on the job.

Emmy let it go at that and watched as he switched on the Accu-Vox, clearing his throat as he pushed it to the middle of the table.

"Ms. Rousseau, how do you feel about receiving your Star after only a few months? It must be a great honor."

"Oh yes…" Emmy breathed with the light-headed feeling from the warm buzz of alcohol, her flushed cheeks dimpling with her next smile. "I owe it all to Sinclair and my fans, truly."

"Has singing always been your dream?"

"Sure has." Emmy smiled serenely, falling back into her thicker accent. "I've been singin' ever since I was able to talk. My mama's the one who gave me this voice I reckon, even though she won't sing for nobody."

"And you're from South Carolina?"

"Yes Sir."

"Was that hard? Having to leave your hometown?"

"Mm," Emmy mused, taking a quick sip of Merlot and slapping Jared's hand away from her thigh underneath the table. "Yes, it was such a small town but it was still home. I figured Rapture was the place to start a new life, and it was the best decision I ever made."

"Now I have some personal questions, I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all." Emmy shook her head with a warm smile, cocking her head to the side and letting her chestnut curls tickle along her bare shoulders.

"Firstly, I'd like to get your opinion on Anna Culpepper's death, how did that effect you?"

Emmy frowned, thinking on the time she met Ms. Culpepper.

Although she was a rather arrogant woman, seeming to not have much use for some moppet like Emmy, she was interesting and had a smooth, classic voice.

She was quite exotically beautiful and had an aristocratic way of talking. Emmy heard she drowned in her bathtub… which was a rather odd way to die.

But apparently she took a sleeping supplement and fell asleep underwater.

What a way to go…

"I only wish I had been more acquainted with Ms. Culpepper before her passing. In meeting her I found she was quite lovely, and I give my condolences to those mourning." Emmy replied, thanking the lord she didn't say something stupid and inconsiderate because of her buzzed state.

"Beautifully said." The paparazzi smiled, nodding as he took a drag on his cigarette. "Now here's a question on a lighter topic… There have been rumors around Rapture that you and Mr. Sinclair are indeed a couple, what do you say to that?"

Emmy grinned at the opportunity for some fun, looking merrily up at Sinclair before sighing in a mock-dreamy sort of way.

"It's true; we're married with 6 kids… How did you know?"

There was a hum of laughter around the table before Emmy grinned, taking a swig of Merlot before shaking her head.

"No, my dear man, I'm very single. Sinclair owns my heart but our relationship is platonic." Emmy smiled warmly at Sinclair before tapping her long, red fingernail against the rim of her glass absently.

"Alright then," The man chuckled, looking down at a piece of paper that seemed to have many questions on it. "I have some questions concerning your voice, for the artsy types around here… You mind?"

"Not at all, question away." Emmy beamed, loving to answer these types of questions.

"What is your vocal range? It's very impressive."

"4 octaves, C3-C7." Emmy answered in satisfaction, a small smile playing about her lips.

"Very good… _Wow_, that's impressive. How come you don't use that range so much?" The man grinned, seeming to be the type who knows his stuff.

"I do, but in my own _private_ performances." Emmy grinned, but almost immediately regretted her choice of words.

Jared snorted loudly whilst Sinclair and Diane chuckled discreetly, a nice hum of laughter buzzing around the table.

Randall had a knowing little smile on his lips as he took a swig of his Chechnya Vodka.

"I mean…" Emmy giggled, a hot blush heating her cheeks. "When I'm _singing_ by myself… I don't usually sing in my original style."

"Yes, I've heard about your different singing styles… I caught one of your performances at the Limbo, singing the famous '_Something's Got a Hold on Me_'." The man nodded thoughtfully, pulling a fresh cigarette out from his case and lighting it. "It was soulful and powerful, quite the difference from your usual performances in the Kashmir. Do you prefer soul and jazz to your other genres?"

"Mm… Well, I do love singing in a jazz style, that's what I first learned to sing, other then my gospel background." Emmy sighed upon thoughts of South Carolina. Days of lying in the grass during summer time, singing Etta James with her high school friends. "But I love singing all kinds of genres."

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen…"

Emmy and her table looked up upon the familiar voice that suddenly echoed through the room.

"Andrew?" Diane whispered, her eyes studying the suave man standing at on the stage of the Kashmir, the spotlights trained on him.

"Tonight, is both a historical and exciting one, for not only the star of the night, Ms. Emmy Rousseau," A hearty applause erupted through the room as a spotlight trained on Emmy's table, the paparazzi slipping away discreetly with what information he gathered. "But for Rapture's community as well… I will make an announcement as soon as the lady of the night receives her award for her legendary performances in dance and song… Ms. Rousseau, would you please join me?"

Emmy smiled grandly through the blinding spotlight upon the loud applause that roared around her, smoothing her sparkling gold dress down her body as she walked up to the stage.

Her long diamond earrings—courtesy of Mr. Augustus Sinclair—tickled her bare shoulders as she approached the microphone stand and Mr. Ryan.

She knew she didn't have to make a speech or anything; she just had to do interviews. So the girl simply kissed each of Mr. Ryan's cheeks in greeting before standing in wait beside him as he began his speech.

"When I first witnessed Ms. Emmy Rousseau singing in her small hometown in South Carolina, I was entranced." He smiled in that elegant way of his, studying Emmy's beaming face as he spoke. "But it was not until I brought her to Rapture, her true home, that I saw the prodigy that I had been looking for, to sing to my city, to bring light to the very art itself."

There was a short applause of agreement before the man beside the starlet cleared his throat, resting a hand on her shoulder as he looked her in the eye.

"We've all heard you belt out notes only the finest instruments can match, and we've all been shaken by the power with which you sing. It has been an honor for my city _and_ myself to have you as a performer, colleague, and friend. Ms. Rousseau, to Rapture and it's community, you are immortalized as an icon this day."

A larger applause shook the room with earnest, and as Emmy looked out, she could see every soul in that gigantic room standing in appreciation to her.

_Her_.

And then, oh then, Mr. Ryan presented Emmy with the prize she had sought her entire life.

It was a framed plaque with what she assumed was a pure gold star in the middle, her name engraved underneath the star elegantly, then underneath that was her own autograph.

Emmy, staring down at her own proof of success, felt… _Surreal_. She felt as if this all was a dream, as if she were back in South Carolina in her small room, listening to records on her shoddy record player and wishing to be a singer… Wishing for people to watch her perform…

Rapture had given her _everything_… Friends, freedom, a career…

And here was the proof, weighing heavy in her hands, the spotlight glinting off the gold of the star, the applause booming through the room.

How many times had she pictured this? Dreamt of it?

How many performances at small-town events did she do just to get the satisfaction of applause?

_She had finally achieved it_…

"Thank you, Mr. Ryan…" Emmy smiled through blurred eyes, patting his shoulder as he smiled in very genuine way.

"You're welcome my dear." He chuckled, his voice echoing through the room. Then, to Emmy's surprise, Mr. Ryan's arm wound around her waist and pulled her very discreetly to his side.

The gesture to the public looked just as if it were a friendly gesture between friends. Because, no doubt, the public probably viewed the two as such.

But Mr. Ryan had never done such a thing since Emmy had arrived in Rapture… back in America he had many times, but in Rapture?

Something truly wonderful must've happened to Andrew Ryan this night…

"Now, my friends… My dear citizens of Rapture… I come with the grandest of news." Mr. Ryan began as Emmy held her plaque to her side, unable to see through the blinding spotlight as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "It is this night that it has been confirmed…"

There was a soft mumble through the crowd at Mr. Ryan's supposed announcement, the suspense that the man elicited from his pause even making Emmy curious.

"Frank Fontaine is dead."

* * *

Emmy watched Sinclair pacing back and forth… back and forth… The smoke swirled behind him like curling morning fog as it snaked out from his mouth.

As soon as the party had been over Emmy and Sinclair had retreated back to his office. Sinclair hadn't asked Emmy to come with him, but she had to know what was going to happen now that Fontaine was dead.

Dead… was he really?

Apparently there had been a shoot out and Fontaine had been caught by a bullet. Sullivan was apart of the shoot out, he saw the whole thing.

It just seemed so… so…

Emmy couldn't quite put her finger on it. But something felt odd.

She'd never seen Fontaine before, she'd only heard of all the things he did in contempt of Ryan. But what she'd heard of Fontaine, and what Sinclair had told her in the past, made her wonder if he truly had been killed in a mere shoot out.

Was this all over so easily?

Did Ryan truly win?

Somehow things just felt… tenser.

"What will happen to Fontaine's businesses?" Emmy asked quietly from her seat on Sinclair's desk. Her long, extravagantly beautiful golden dress skimmed against the floor as her heels swayed absently.

He didn't answer her at first, her honey eyes simply watching him pace as she lifted the cigarette to her lips and took a thoughtful drag.

Emmy wasn't a smoker; she only smoked one or two cigarettes on very rare occasions of great relaxation or great stress.

She wasn't quite sure which she should feel after Frank Fontaine's death...

"They'll go to Ryan." Sinclair replied slowly before nodding in reassurance to his own answer. "But…"

Emmy watched her friend's face scrunch up in confusion as he concentrated on a spot beneath him on the wooden floor, the cigar smoking slowly from his lips.

"It doesn't seem right, does it?" Emmy spoke for him, her diamond bracelet's clinking together as she emptied her ashes into the tray on Sinclair's desk. "Too… Simple."

"Yeah…" Sinclair nodded in agreement, looking over to Emmy and studying her.

She was still glowing from the honor of getting immortalized in Rapture history. The gold of her dress brought out the liquid caramel of her honey brown eyes, her chestnut curls sitting on her shoulders nicely.

His eyes continued to watch her as she stared off into the jail that lay below the windows of Sinclair's office, letting her lips open and allowing the smoke from her mouth curl up past her nose. Her bracelets clinked as she moved her hand.

_Clink_… _Clink_… _Clink, clink_…

Looking at her now, so naïve…

Sinclair thought back to Tenenbaum's offer, then imagining what Emmy would say if he had told her of her _scientific value_.

Then Sinclair thought back to his rather interesting conversation with Gil Alexander…

It wasn't too long after Tenenbaum had approached him… maybe a month or so later.

Sinclair had been in his office here in Persephone when he got a call from the front Checkpoint area. They had told him that Dr. Gil Alexander wished to talk to him.

"Send him in…" Sinclair had said, his eyes narrowed at the name.

He knew who the Doc was and he knew what he dealt with. Big Daddy business, taking that Jap's place…

It wasn't long before Gil entered the office, the small man giving Sinclair a kind smile and shaking his hand heartily.

"I'm so very sorry for the short notice, Mr. Sinclair. I suppose I should've arranged a meeting with you instead of popping by unannounced." The man fussed in that strange, proper talk of his.

"Ah, no problem Gil. What can I do for you?" Sinclair smiled politely, tapping his fingernail against his glass of scotch as he motioned for Gil to have a seat in the chair opposite him.

"Well, Mr. Sinclair, it is a scientific discovery that I have to discuss with you." Gil chuckled, scooting the chair closer to Sinclair to speak more directly.

"Oh?" Sinclair mused, looking the meek man over. "I heard that same tune quite recently from another practitioner of science…"

"Ah…" Gil squinted his eyes in question, as if trying to remember if that scientist had been himself. "Well, how strange… does that mean you aren't inclined to hear my discovery?"

"Wouldn't say that…" Sinclair shook his head with a shrug, tapping his foot in the air as he rested his ankle on top of his knee. "I'm always open to _discoveries_ Doc… Go on."

"Well, actually, it's concerning a Subject in the Alpha Series line…" The man smiled thoughtfully, as if this Subject were some grand friend of his. "Quite remarkable actually… It seems this Subject—Subject Zeta is his name—refuses to bond with a Little Sister as all the other subjects have."

"Tough luck Doc." Sinclair smirked, taking another drink of his scotch.

"Yes, so it would seem." Gil chuckled in a flouncy sort of way. "But that isn't what concerns me any longer about this Subject…"

"Hm?"

"Well, to get right to the point, Subject Zeta is a very… erm, stubborn one. It seems he needs a foundation of a memory or feeling of someone in order to form a bond as strong as needed for a Little Sister. Unfortunately, this means he won't be able to bond with a Little Sister properly." Gil explained. "But, he seems to have a memory of a woman, or, rather, a feeling that has stuck in his brain tenaciously even after the Protector transformation."

One of Sinclair's dark brows rose questioningly at Gil Alexander's chuckle. "And? What does this have to do with me?"

"Well, quite simply, it seems that Subject Zeta's emotional attachments are… to your spokes model, Ms. Emmy Rousseau."

Sinclair stared blankly at Gil for a moment, his eyes narrowed in suspicion and his foot ceasing from it's tapping on his knee abruptly.

Augustus wondered on his girl, Emmy, and why every God damn scientist in Rapture wants her for some experiment or another.

Why was she oh so compatible for those experiments? And why must Sinclair have to deal with such trivial things?

_Although_, this one was rather funny, if you cared to ask Augustus...

"You mean to tell me that one of your big ol' tin Daddies has it soft for _my_ girl?" Sinclair smirked slowly, swirling his scotch around in his cup.

Gil seemed to be embarrassed when Sinclair put it in such terms, which only made this all the more hilarious to Augustus.

"So what should that matter to me? Are you tryin' to ask me for a favor Doc?"

"Hm, well, I suppose…" Gil mumbled slowly, thinking of the possibilities of bonding a Protector to a famous songbird. "Surely the girl needs a bodyguard…?"

Sinclair gave a delighted grin of amusement as he shook his head slowly. "Nah, I don't believe so. Besides, wouldn't that require the whole _bondin_' process?"

Gil nodded slowly, embarrassed almost.

"Well then, I'm sorry Mr. Alexander, my answer is no." Sinclair chuckled, giving the small man a pat on the back. "But thank you for the laugh. It was greatly needed."

Sinclair was brought back to the moment when Emmy slid off his desk, her heels clicking against the floor.

"Ah… Augustus, I'm exhausted. I'm gonna go." The girl smiled sleepily, extinguishing her cigarette in the ashtray beside her.

Augustus glanced over at the clock briefly, surprised to see that it was 2 in the morning.

"Alright sugar…" Sinclair sighed, smiling to himself as the girl wrapped her arms around him in a warm, serene hug. "Be careful on your way home, okay kid? Fontaine may be down, but his goons aren't."

* * *

**I know this is really short and I know I haven't updated in a while. I'm not very good to my readers, I know, and I'm _so_ sorry.**

**I'm lucky you all still read this! Thank you to those who are reading and reviewing, everything you do is so inspiring to me, I hope you know.**

**I read every review, every message, and see every subscription. Every single review and message, as I recently told a reader, makes my heart explode.  
**

**I'll try to update more often, I promise. But I'm afraid this story is coming to an end pretty soon. Will there be a second part? Who knows..._ ;)_**

**A couple more chapters my lovelies.**


	19. Death of a Star

_October 10th, 1958_

Randall sighed contently as he ran his fingers up and down the spine of the girl lying on his chest, her breath puffing hotly and slowly against his skin.

The sweat was still moist on his body but her slow, relaxed breathing made him drowsy.

He knew Emmy hadn't fallen asleep. She'd proven to have quite the stamina in bed.

Rather, he assumed she was troubled… She was usually never this quiet, even if exhausted.

Lately Rapture had… well… taken some heavy hits.

Posters for missing people had gone up everywhere… Posters mainly for little girls…

But those little girls were now Little Sisters, as the public so _affectionately_ called them.

The Little Sisters were there to take the ADAM from the dead bodies that showed up in the slums of Rapture, wherever nasty riots took place.

Riots over the shutting down of the bathyspheres… the crash of the express, the banks, businesses… Rapture was falling.

No, this hadn't occurred in the last few months. It had been happening over the entire year, but now everyone was beginning to feel it.

Hop Up didn't get much business nowadays, considering most people just broke into the Circus Value machines and stole what they wanted.

Even the upper class of Rapture began to join in the riots against Andrew Ryan, against the poor, against everything…

Emmy, who had loved Rapture so dearly, loved what it had given her, was taking its decline very hard.

She didn't really display such emotions, but Randall could tell. When they were alone together she seemed to sigh a lot, especially when seeing a Little Sister walking hand in hand with a Big Daddy.

It might be also because of the issues with Sinclair…

He had been 'kicked out' of Pauper's Drop by the forces of Grace Holloway and the 'Rapture Family', avid followers of Sofia Lamb.

Sinclair was rather torn up about it too, mainly his pride. He had remarked upon the subject saying he 'didn't need that piece of shit apartment complex in that back-birth neighborhood anyhow'.

Not to mention the most conflicting of all, the rise of Atlas.

Some low class Irish citizen named Atlas had taken Fontaine's place after his death. Atlas seemed to be acting far more vigorously upon rioting against Ryan's policies, however...

Which was why Rapture's decline seemed to be rapidly increasing towards the coming of 1959.

How strange, Randall thought. That such a thriving city with the most incredible potential falls to ruins before the New Year.

Suddenly he felt the girl that was sprawled out on top of him slide out from the sheets, the smooth expanse of her bare back facing him as she sat on the side of the bed.

Randall wanted to run his lips up and down that back, as he had done so not too long ago. But he knew when Emmy was upset, and wasn't quite sure if kisses would help.

The man had always been hesitant when it came to female emotions.

Randall continued to study her, the loose brown curls that hung around her shoulders, her slim intake of waist, small rib-cage, dainty hands that held onto the sheets beneath her.

He heard her take a deep breath before glancing over her shoulder, smiling warmly at him in a drowsy sort of way.

Her lipstick had faded to a very light smudge of color on her pillowy lips, looking rather sex-messy.

Randall liked that look...

"Do you want an orange?" She asked softly, her arm reaching back and running a soft hand over his chest.

"…If you feed it to me."

The girl snorted merrily at the request, standing and walking out of the bedroom, her laughter heard in unison with the padding of her bare feet.

Randall had noticed that the girl wasn't very shy about walking stark-naked around his home, even in the middle of the day.

He supposed that _should_ be odd—if he weren't already used to it, considering the two weren't dating any longer.

It wasn't as if they lost interest, it was just… hard, with all the issues in life at the moment.

They simply used each other as sexual outlets and emotional confidants, although Randall felt a tad deeper for the girl then a simple sex-buddy.

He didn't love her, no, at least not in the way a man loves his wife.

He loved the _idea_ of loving Emmy, but she was perhaps too young for him… or maybe he'd never fully gotten over Josephine.

Or maybe it was because he knew that she also had feelings for another. That ham Jared Knoxby…

He wasn't quite sure if the two had slept together yet, but Randall often saw the two in the Tribune in rather close embraces. So he supposed they had.

But that was not his business…

Randall jumped slightly at the sudden shaking of the bed as Emmy returned with an already peeled orange.

She popped a slice into her mouth, as if she weren't sitting there naked, and smiled down at Randall…

…Who was caught in the midst of staring at said nakedness.

The girl smirked, snapping her fingers in front of the man's face playfully before shoving a piece of orange in his mouth.

* * *

"One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock! Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock! Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock! We're gonna _rock_ around the clock _tonight_!"

Emmy couldn't carry on any longer, dissolving into uncontrollable giggles and leaning into Jared's shoulder as Diane's equally loud laughter sounded from beside her.

Diane had invited Emmy and Jared to a 'night of relief', as the blonde had put it.

Lately all three of the young friends had taken a good deal of stress, each dealing with different situations.

Of course everyone in Rapture was either mourning or fighting, so the three agreed to a night of drinking, dancing and mischief.

The night had worn on late, much later then Emmy—a working girl—should be out. Augustus was _always_ nagging her about dark under-eye circles...

The Kashmir had closed for the night, so the three upper class citizens had taken refuge in the Fighting McDonagh's.

They were rather foolish in entering such a place, home to many old Fontaine supporters and current Atlas fighters.

But they didn't much mind, Emmy supposed, considering a famous ball player and a famous pin-up were the visitors, along with a pretty blonde woman.

Besides, Emmy was certainly _not_ a Ryan supporter.

She wasn't on anyone's side, she realized. She was simply caught up in all the chaos.

Although Emmy thought she was welcome here, even signing some autographs and viewing a few tattoos of her beaming face on bulging biceps, there were two pairs of eyes that bored into the girl's face with so much hatred that Emmy actually felt it.

The girl, even though she knew someone was staring at her in an intense way, didn't really know where the gaze was coming from. She could never source it.

So, being already far gone into a nice buzz, simply gulped down the rest of her cheap beer before giving a loud sigh.

"I have to go…" The girl mumbled, immediately inciting groans of protest from her two friends.

"Emmy _no_… We _just got here_!" Diane grinned in a loopy sort of way, having had twice as much alcohol as Jared and Emmy put together.

"We got here three hours ago Diane…" Emmy snorted, giving Diane a kiss on the cheek before turning to Jared. "Will you please make sure she gets home?"

The man's hazel eyes seemed to smile as he gazed at his brunette companion, reaching up and running a finger along a ruby red bottom lip.

"Yeah, but I wanna see you later tonight…"

Emmy lowered her lashes in a mock-glare, causing the man to grin cheekily as he planted a quick kiss on the girl's lips.

"Sure, I guess. _If_ you can get in my apartment, _sugar_." Emmy purred, reaching down and squeezing the man's knee as she grabbed her purse and swung it over her shoulder. "If I find Diane drunk in a gutter then _you'll_ get the punishment Jared…"

"What kind of punishment?" Jared grinned, his hand reaching out to pat Emmy on the butt.

She quickly and expertly swished out of the way in time, making him swat mid-air.

Emmy stuck her tongue out at Jared upon his mild-disappointment before giving Diane a pointed look of parent-like sternness. "Diane, be good please. No more drinking, go home okay?"

"I am good… _you_ be good."

Emmy smiled, leaning over and giving Jared a more serious, memorable kiss that had him smiling against her lips.

As she pulled away he grabbed her arm gently, causing the girl to glance down at his hand before looking up into his surprisingly solemn eyes.

"Be careful, splicers are out and about a lot lately…"

Emmy shook her head with a warm smile, lightly taking her arm from his grip and waving at him over her shoulder. "I'll be fine."

* * *

The girl's fists ached… ached to slam into that stupid bitch's face over and over… until she couldn't breathe… until Emmy fuckin' Rousseau was as ugly as Georgia was…

To make her look like ADAM had ruined that pretty face of hers…

To make her regret ever putting Leon away…

"Georgie, calm the fuck down, will ya?" Jerry hushed into the girl's ear as her brown eyes bored into the back of the stupid broad. "We'll get her, but we need to do so at the _right time_."

The infamous Ms. Rousseau just happened to stumble into the Fighting McDonagh's with that McClintock broad and that dumbshit Knoxby.

And she was even kind enough to walk home alone…

The luck Jerry had, he couldn't believe it sometimes.

He hated the bitch as much as Georgia did, but they couldn't just jump this dame with witnesses around. They had to wait until she was in an empty street.

It wouldn't be long until they found one… it was three in the morning after all.

And even better yet, Jerry could tell the girl was maybe half-drunk, or at least buzzed.

She was humming as she walked, waving to the fans that greeted her in passing and not bothering to acknowledge the fact that too very angry splicers were following her.

It was her that got Leon beaten up and thrown into Persephone… It was her that turned Leon into one of them Big Daddies…

It didn't matter to Jerry if she was a lady. Hell, she could'a been the queen of fuckin' England and he still wouldn't have cared.

All Jerry cared about was avenging Leon… and he'd start with this little snitch.

Georgia, on the other hand, was using every ounce of her self control not to yank herself out of Jerry's grip and rip Emmy apart.

She was smaller then Georgia, in height and weight. Not that much of a looker either, in Georgia's eyes at least.

She hated this woman walking in front of her with all she had… she hated her as much as she loved Leon.

This woman took Leon away, in both heart and body.

She took his attention away and then threw him into hell. She didn't care for Leon… he was an insignificant fly in her path.

She probably didn't lose a fuckin' wink of sleep over him…

It was unfair that Georgia was so miserable… so God damn _miserable_ and this bitch was _happy_…

She was happy and rich and famous… she was allowed to love…

But Georgia… Georgia was a splicer… _A lonely splicer_…

That girl had _everything_, and she took away all Georgia had in an instant and threw it away like it was _garbage_…

_She _made Georgia like this! Not ADAM, it was her… her, her, _her_…!

Georgia could feel the desperate need for a hit scraping along her veins, the voice of ADAM in her head _screaming_ at her…

In that moment Georgia couldn't care if there was anybody watching… she couldn't see anybody but the glamorous woman in front of her.

Georgia launched herself forward in a mad charge and tackled the girl to the ground with the advantage of both height and weight, causing the two of them to crumple instantly to the streets of Rapture.

The starlet had cried out in shock upon being tackled, wheeling her head over her shoulder in time to see the dirty fist that slammed with all the strength it possessed straight into her nose.

Emmy felt her nose crack and slant to the side in tatters, the blood spurting so fast into her mouth and down her lips that she gagged on it.

The pain was so intense that it radiated through her face and blinded her, the tears bubbling over as Emmy cried out in shock and agony.

"Georgia wait! We can't kill her this quick you fuckin' idiot! We can't ask her what happened to him if we do that!"

Emmy sobbed pitifully and gasped, her body shaking from the pain as she gasped for air.

"We already know what happened to him _Jerry_! She made him become one of them monsters! _SHE DID IT_! We have her right here, I _need_ to kill her!"

Emmy ran her tongue over her teeth. They felt loose in her jaw…

How was that woman so strong…?

"Yeah, no shit she did! But maybe she can tell us more about the situation! Don't hit her until I tell you to, lemme talk!"

Emmy's attempt to crawl away was foiled instantly when she felt a heavy steel-toed boot slam into her side, the air rushing painfully from her lungs as she gasped in terror and misery.

"Come here!" She felt a large hand knot in her hair and yank her up roughly.

She met eyes with a miserably hideous man, obviously a splicer by the deformities all over his face.

Emmy coughed from the blood in her mouth, feeling as if she'd drown in it as the man forced her to look up into his eyes.

"Back in January you were assaulted, weren't you?" The man growled, watching the girl with very little pity in his eyes as she shook in fear.

Emmy's mind was too occupied with the radiating pain in her face and in her side to answer, the tears blinding her as she wailed with the next punch that split her lip open over her teeth.

"Yes! Yes I was! Please stop!" Emmy wailed in horror as the man's grip tightened enough that she could feel chunks of hair tearing from their roots.

"Who assaulted you? A man named Leon Calloway?"

"Who?" Emmy gurgled through the blood that poured from her mouth and down the front of her dress. "I… I-I don't remember that day! I had amnesia!"

The woman accompanying the man cackled merrily at the speech impediment Emmy now possessed with ruined lips and loose teeth.

"You better remember _girly_… Otherwise we'll keep beatin' the shit out of you 'til there ain't nothin' left…"

Emmy tried desperately to bring back the memories of that day, panting from the terror pounding through her and shaking in the man's grasp.

"There… T-There was t-three-,"

"Stop stuttering!"

Emmy felt the blood and bile choke up her throat as the woman pounded an incredibly strong fist straight into Emmy's stomach, making the girl vomit up all the night's alcohol just shy of the man's boots.

"Hurry up!" The man snarled impatiently as he watched the girl in his grasp cough up thick clots of blood and sick in loud gasps. "I think I hear someone coming."

"Hurry the fuck up!" The woman echoed, holding up her fist threateningly.

"Okay! Please, just stop...!" Emmy sobbed, her eyes beginning to swell from the first punch she received. "I… I can only remember three men… Splicers… I don't know their names…"

"Was there another guy there? A good lookin' kid, tall, kinda mean lookin'."

"Um… Umm…" Emmy couldn't help the fuddling of speech with the combination of fear and pain, her brain fumbling over itself to obey the two. "I… I can't… Maybe, yes! There was, I remember!"

"Did he hurt you?" The two of them suddenly seemed intensely interested, both leaning over and looking down into her ruined face expectantly.

"I… I don't know! I got a head injury that day! I know he was there, but I don't know if he hurt me! Please, let me go! _Please_!"

Emmy felt sick with the next mind-blowing punch that the woman slammed into her mouth, causing a few front teeth to break off her gums and fall back into her mouth.

"You _bitch_! _You made them take Leon away_!"

She only endured one more crippling punch, this time straight to her chest, before the man pushed the woman off of Emmy.

"You see that you fuckin' moron?"

Emmy's vision was blurring as she felt unconsciousness approaching…

Her ears rang incessantly, her body shook and reeled with the pain, her eyes seemed to cross and go out of focus on their own. Her skull felt foreign and soft where she had hit it on the street; the blood from her wounds blinded her, suffocated her, drowned her as she lay rasping for life that fled too quickly to regain.

But even in the midst of her body on the fritz, she could feel the ground shaking beneath her; hear the strange, loud whale-like groan that echoed through the streets.

"That's a Daddy, and you know what Daddies _really _don't like?"

Emmy felt herself being lifted from the puddle of blood that surrounded her. She was flying through the air before landing with a loud thump on the ground, followed by a little girl's gasp, "Get her Daddy!"

Then… the deafening battle cry of the Big Daddy.

Emmy opened her eyes just in time to see the monster size boot lifting and slamming down onto her arm at the elbow.

The most intensely horrifying pain shot out in hot, unbearable streaks from her shattered elbow all the way up to the back of her cracked skull.

Emmy's blood curdling scream frightened even herself as her back bucked in too much agony for her small soul to handle.

The last thing Emmy felt was a large hand encircling around her ankle before she was flying through the air again…

Then… Darkness.


	20. One Last Hope

_October 11th, 1958_

Sinclair stared down at the girl… _his_ girl…

Ruined, broken, half-dead.

He didn't want to admit that he'd grown soft, but he did. Especially with Emmy.

She was a _good_ girl. She didn't deserve this, she never in a _million_ years deserved to be beaten like… like some God damn _animal_.

Sinclair had gotten the call from the hospital at 5 in the morning. They had told him Emmy Rousseau had been brought to them half dead and beaten to a pulp.

Some fella found her on his way to the Docks.

Sinclair didn't believe it at first, simply because bad things don't happen to people like Emmy.

Sure, she had that incident on her birthday, but she came out virtually unscathed and was back on her feet the next day.

Now Steinman here tells him that his girl's gonna die...

"We've tried, Mr. Sinclair, we truly did." Steinman himself had told Augustus after hours of waiting. "She simply lost too much blood, and her face is far too damaged for proper facial reconstruction without heavy amounts of ADAM. But that would risk her addiction to it, and you have stated specifically that you don't want ADAM involved in her treatment?"

Sinclair sighed at the thought of that conversation, pressing his lips in a grim line as he stared down at the girl's shattered arm.

"We'll have to amputate it." They told him. "It's a miracle that it's still attached…"

Augustus wondered what the public would do…

It would be a tragedy… People would mourn, cry, fight even more…

They'd blame it on Atlas or Ryan, or maybe Rapture itself.

Sinclair just… couldn't really imagine his life without this girl as a business partner. Emmy was the only one he ever truly liked. A good kid, a _nice_ kid, a money-maker…

She was there for him when he'd lost his businesses in the Drop, she respected him even after he was kicked out.

Emmy had stuck by him and every scheme he had to make money, and she still managed to admire him…

He'd miss her, that was for sure… But maybe she'd be better off away from the madness of Rapture.

It wasn't as if she could get out the easy way, in a bathysphere…

Still, the business man in Sinclair cursed such luck… He knew it was terrible, and he knew he was a bastard to think of such things when here a once beautiful 20 year old with unimaginable potential was dying, but he'd gotten the best business in his life with this girl at his side, and now that was all gone.

Sure, there would always be other girls with potential to replace Emmy… prettier models, bolder women; hell, even singers were a dime-a-dozen these days.

But Emmy was _special_. No amount of beauty, no amount of talent could ever over-shadow that bright light that was Emmy Rousseau's pure, naive soul.

"I'm sorry for your loss…"

Sinclair glanced over his shoulder upon the soft footsteps that padded into the previously silent room, the man's dark eyes traveling up the length of the tall woman from her feet to the top of her head.

"Ah… thank you Dr. Tenenbaum." Sinclair exhaled, turning back to Emmy as the young German entered the hospital room tentatively. "Suppose you're here to curse me for wastin' your scientific breakthrough."

The woman didn't answer at first, making him think that he was actually right. But then she sighed, approaching the bed at Sinclair's side. "No, I have not come for that."

Sinclair looked over at the woman; she stood at his height, maybe even taller.

She looked tired, but maybe that was because it was 7 in the morning.

"Then what, may I ask, are y' here for Tenenbaum?" Sinclair felt irritated with this woman.

The one time Augustus Sinclair ever mourned and this kraut had to come bother him.

Brigid looked into the hard, exhausted eyes of Mr. Sinclair, spotting the true grief there in the dark brown depths.

Augustus Sinclair emotionally attached to a girl? _Who knew we lived in such a world…_

Tenenbaum smiled at her own private humor, but it was only a very small smile, one that disappeared upon seeing the ruined face of the once beautiful Emmy Rousseau.

Perhaps Tenenbaum's epiphany about the little ones had made her sentimental towards all women younger then herself… For when she looked upon this girl, she saw all the little ones that she ruined… with ADAM… with the filth that Fontaine wanted…

But in this girl she also saw potential…

Not performing potential… not singing potential… not scientific potential.

The potential to become a savior…

Ah, yes… perhaps Emmy Rousseau would become something greater then a singer in cocktail lounges… greater then the celebrity she possessed.

_Eine Hoffnung_…

"Mr. Sinclair, I'm a horrible person." Tenenbaum sighed, a half-hearted smile touching her thin, bird lips.

Sinclair's brow furrowed as he watched the woman smile, staring at her for a moment before giving a bitter chuckle. "Join the club, Doc."

"No… I mean for what I've done to the little girls… Taking their childhood away… turning them into… what they are."

"Well… I can't disagree with that really." Augustus shrugged, allowing himself a seat in the chair beside the bed. "But... I'm pretty bad too, I suppose."

"How so?"

Sinclair glanced up at Tenenbaum before frowning slightly, then settling his eyes back on an unconscious Emmy.

"This girl is gonna die and I was thinkin' about what a sore loss that is for my company…"

"_Keh_…" Tenenbaum sniffed, plopping herself down in a seat beside Sinclair. "I can save her."

Sinclair's head snapped up, his dark eyes scanning the woman's face desperately with hope. "Truly? You can?"

Tenenbaum cut a sly eye over to Sinclair before giving a kind smile. "You do care about her, it seems. Not only your business."

Sinclair blinked, thinking she was attempting to be funny with the mention of her possible savior. "If you're here to play with me when my girl is dyin' then you can take your skinny kraut ass back to your lab."

"Ack! So quick to judge." Tenenbaum hissed, shooting a narrow-eyed look in Sinclair's direction. "Of course I can save her… It is easy, very simple. But I already know your decision."

Augustus shifted his eyes over to the woman beside him, studying her a moment before sighing. "You mean that snail you found…"

"Slug." Tenenbaum corrected in irritation. "And yes, that is what I mean."

Augustus looked over at the coma-stricken girl, his business heart telling him, "_Yes, Augustus! Do it! What harm would it do her except save her life? Then we'd be back to normal again, Sinclair and Rousseau!_"

But… his heart that went out to his friend told him no… That this girl, if she were turned into one of them Little Sisters, would be forever that way… She would always have that slug inside her, always be a slave. Besides, how many times had she expressed her distaste with ADAM? Did he not have to comfort her after she'd seen one of them brats in the streets?

She herself even admitted to preferring death over slavery under ADAM's spell, having seen what it has done to the public of Rapture.

Sinclair was very much opposed personally to becoming one of them metal daddies, and he reckoned this was the same thing for Emmy. Slavery is slavery, he figured, don't matter much what you dress it up in.

He had to look out for her… That was all he could give her now.

"I can't do that…" Sinclair sighed, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "She'd be one of those things forever."

"Not necessarily…"

Sinclair looked over at the German woman as she stared at Emmy, her eyes looking sympathetic. Maternal almost.

"What'd you mean?"

"I've invented a plasmid that kills the slug inside of the little ones." She replied, making Augustus' brow rise. "I simply need someone to do it… I need someone capable of using this plasmid to save my little girls."

Oh… So _that's_ what it was…

Ol' Tenenbaum's gone soft too, it seems. She regrets turning those tots into monsters. And _now_ she wants a hero to save them…

"If you have that plasmid, why don't you use it?"

Tenenbaum sighed, giving a shake of her head before looking over to Sinclair. "I haven't perfected it yet… Besides, I'm designing it specially to be compatible with the slug."

Sinclair nodded, not really caring about the broad's science experiment.

He was just trying to get the thought of her proposition out of his mind before he actually considered it.

Emmy wouldn't want to be one of those things… Sinclair knew she wouldn't…

But would she rather die then live life as one? Sure, past words rang solid when alive and well, but were her claims against ADAM so strong that she'd rather cease to exist then live with it as a lifeline?

"Please, Sinclair … I know you think that transforming this girl would be just as bad as killing her… But you have to remember, this slug is _different_. It won't necessarily have all the effects that the little ones have." Tenenbaum urged on, as if she could _see_ Sinclair's resolve teetering on a thin line. "Don't you think Emmy would want to save these little girl's? Don't you think she wants to give them their childhood back?"

Sinclair narrowed his eyes, staring blankly at Emmy's mashed in face, remembering how she once looked.

Remembering that she _did_ have a problem with the Little Sisters.

It had upset her to see those little girls running around like half-dead demons, drawing the ADAM out of Rapture's corpses…

"You could make the decision that would not only save countless little girls' lives, but the life of Emmy… You want that, don't you?"

Sinclair clenched his fists, the conflict in his head making him sweat.

"She would no longer be ruined… the ADAM would fix her injuries, she'd be perfectly fine. Healthier then ever, even!" Brigid pressed more passionately now, seeing that she had Sinclair in her grasp. "She would be beautiful again, she would be indestructible. Your _business_ would be indestructible..."

…

"… I need to speak to Gil Alexander."

* * *

Okay, MANY things to address!

Yes, this is the last chapter of Part One.

But is the story of Emmy Rousseau and Leon Calloway (AKA, Subject Zeta) over? Nah. Not yet.

I wasn't going to make this story into two parts (fearing that I'd lose all my readers if they had nothing to read from me, seeing as both my stories are currently awaiting their sequel) but I had to split it up or else this story would be _way_ too long.

I still worry about losing all of you during the wait for the next part, perhaps you drift away out of boredom, but I want you all to know that I will be posting little tidbits of short stories and such.

I get bursts of inspiration, and seeing as my gaming palette is rather vast, those short (or long) stories could and will probably include: Mafia 2, Bioshock, Red Dead Redemption, Assassin's Creed, Fallout, etc.

In fact, I've already written the beginning for a Fallout story (which I'm rather excited about, but there is a long way to go until it is done), another for Mafia 2 (needs some work, but I like the idea I have in mind), and Assassin's Creed (very rough mind you, still deciding whether to write a story about the lovely Ezio Auditore or an original character).

So, I suppose I should address the most important thing first... YOU! :D

_Thank you_, **_thank you_**, **_thank you_** for every review, message, and hit regarding this story. Every single acknowledgment, praise, and criticism makes my heart explode.

Secondly, what do you think will happen in part two of this story (the title of which is _Pairbond_, by the way)? And how did you like the ending? Hm?

Also, a few questions for those who are interested in any other work from me:

During the time of writing the second part for this story and others, which project would you like to see from me to hold you over?

My Mafia 2 story, my Fallout story, a short story of an alternate universe in my Bioshock world that looks at what Emmy and Leon's life would've been like if I had been nice and made Leon actually ask Emmy out (I have been thinking about this for a while honestly, I'll give more information to those that are interested), random ponderings in the world of Red Dead Redemption, or... blah! I have so many ideas concerning Rapture, I'm not done with that world yet!

Anyway, _**thank you**_ for reading, any questions about this story or upcoming stories are welcome and should be asked via message. I love you all! :D


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